Imprinted
by thisendsintragedy
Summary: An untold saga. A new mutant. A powerful love-triangle. A return of an old enemy... and a new threat to the world. Set after X3. Let's see what happens in an uncharted world featuring Rogue, Wolverine, Cyclops, and the Brotherhood. SMUT WARNINGS. LOVE TRIANGLE. RATED M. I SUCK AT SUMMARIES. MORE DETAILS INSIDE.
1. Chapter 1

LOCATION: Cerebro

"Ah, Rogue! There you are! You're just in time," Professor Xavier exclaimed, his greeting warm and genuine.

I started to smile back, but when I saw the mutinous Jean Grey asleep on a cot several feet away from me, my nerves started to jump like crazy.

Professor Xavier wheeled himself over to another cot that was parallel to the one Jean was on and waved me over to it.

I looked at the cot and asked, "P-Professor? Um... Is that cot for me?"

He nodded jubilantly. "This is your cot, Rogue. I just need you to lie back while I hook the machine up to you and Jean. It should only take a few minutes."

_I'm not getting anywhere near that fucking thing, _I mentally protested.

The Professor fixed me with a stern look. "Now, Rogue, it hurts my feelings you don't trust me with electronics. I know Storm should be in here helping me out, but I know she'd refuse because of—" he broke off and nodded his head in Jean's direction.

"I wasn't referring to your technical skills, Professor," I admitted sheepishly. "I was talking about the other person in the room."

He raised his eyebrows in question. "You know that Jean wouldn't harm you, Rogue, don't you?"

I looked away and refused to say anything. He should know better than to ask me that. I knew Jean wouldn't hurt me—not the real Jean anyway. I may not like her, but I give her respect for keeping her inner demon at bay for this long. But now that it's starting to break loose... I'm starting to lose my resolve in her.

The Professor must've picked up on my thoughts, because I saw a look of understanding starting to creep on his face. "Very well, then. I respect your opinions. But I assure you that she is heavily sedated. The Phoenix will not harm you during the link. Keep in mind that I will be linked to the both of you as well—acting like a firewall, if you will. Nothing bad will happen to you while I'm here, Marie, trust me."

My heart softened when the Professor used my real name, and I obliged to his request by nodding and going over to the cot to lay back. As soon as my back hit the plush material of the cot, I sighed and closed my eyes, and automatically envisioned myself in a better setting.

Almost instantly, I started to think about Professor Logan. I could feel myself smile when I saw his face in my mind. He was undoubtedly perfect to me in every single way. I loved his face, his hair, his hazel eyes, and even his claws. Logan could never frighten me; there was nothing about him that I didn't want to care for and love.

The Professor—ever the observant psychic—suddenly cleared his throat. "Now, Rogue, you know you shouldn't be thinking of Professor Logan in that way."

I blushed crimson. "I-I know, Professor," I murmured. "I just can't help it. He was the only thing I knew would calm me down. I... I just had to think of him. I'm sorry,"

"Don't apologize," he said, and through his tone I sensed he was smiling. "I just hope you understand that while you are still underage, there cannot be anything between you and Logan."

I opened my eyes and saw the Professor looking at me with a sad, but truthful look on his face. I got what he was saying, but it didn't make me feel any better. I just opted for a civil approach by nodding in understanding.

He nodded back. "Now, back to business. Do you remember what you have to do?"

"Um, not exactly," I replied, slightly embarrassed that I was too scatterbrained to remember crucial instructions.

He waved his hand away nonchalantly. "Don't worry about remembering. I knew you'd forget, which is why I took the liberty of asking. I was just seeing whether you were going to be honest with me."

I smiled comfortably. "Glad I passed that test,"

He laughed. "I am as well. Okay, here's what you're going to do," he began his informative speech, "when I flip this switch right here," –he pointed to a tiny, red lever that almost resembled a light switch— "you are going to touch Jean's skin lightly, and then slowly, and I mean, slowly, turn your skin on. Your goal during this experiment is to try and capture some of the Phoenix's powers within your own, and essentially, get inside its head. Can you do that for me?"

Feeling an overwhelming sense of nervousness, I glanced over at the sleeping Jean before I said, "Are you sure she's not going to hurt me, Professor? Are you sure I'm safe?"

"I assure you that you have nothing to worry about, Rogue," he promised from behind me.

I knew he was telling the truth; I knew the Professor would never put me in harm's way. I closed my eyes, sighed, and brought my hand over to Jean's flesh. "I'm ready."

"On the count of three then?" he suggested.

I nodded.

"Okay then, here we go. One... two... three!"

I heard the flick of the switch and instantly prepared myself to get ready to use my mutation as soon as I felt the Phoenix's presence. I closed my eyes, nerves kicking into overdrive, and knew I was going to screw this up because I was so damn hyped. _Chill dude,_ my mind told me. _No matter what the Professor says, you can at least think of Logan so you can calm down. He may not like it, but he'll appreciate why you did it. Just calm down so you don't mess this shit up. _

I conjured another image in my head: Logan riding his motorcycle on a back road that was surrounded by trees and small houses further back from the road. The look on his face was so calm, so serene, almost like the only time he was truly content was when he was out on the open road with his bike. It was starting to calm me down as well. As I pictured the love of my life smiling peacefully, I started to feel at peace with myself at the same time.

But then, I felt something.

_What the hell is that?_

It felt like an intruder was in my mind now- but how could that be?

Instinct told me exactly what I didn't want to know: the Phoenix was inside my head.

I lost all rational and instantly started to panic; my mutation started to hum to life simultaneously, and I could feel the power of Jean flow through me, almost choking me.

The machine started to beep erratically, and I heard the Professor shout my name.

"Rogue!" he called. "Rogue, please—STOP! Oh, I wasn't prepared for this... I didn't see this coming..."

_Didn't see what coming?!_ I mentally shouted at him. _What didn't you see? How the hell is that even possible?! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO KNOW EVERYTHING!_

My mutation wasn't letting up—and neither was the Phoenix. We were battling then, trying to see who would overcome the other. Would it try to get inside my head before I drained it of its powers? Or would I tame the beast before it killed me? I was too frightened to know, but I knew one thing was for sure: I had to do something.

"Professor!" I cried—a searing pain had just entered my head and it felt like it was ripping my brain in two. My nails started to dig into Jean's arm in defense. "Professor, I'm turning my skin fully on!"

"No, Rogue, don't do it! Please!"

_Too late,_ I thought, and with one sudden burst of energy, I broke through his firewall and reached the Phoenix, fully draining its power.

Everything around us began to shake. I could see the lights flicker from behind my closed eyes, and I could hear the rumbling sounds of the room around us as the Phoenix threatened to blow us all into the next millennium. My energy was wearing out, but I couldn't let it beat us. _Can't let you win... Can't let you win... Won't let you..._

The pain came back again, and I arched my back fully as I let out a blood-curdling scream. Recognition dawned on me: it was inside my head.

I gave one last scream as I tried to use my mutation against it, but I felt myself growing weak. A lulling, deep pull from my subconscious called to me, and I knew that it was time to give up. I needed to sleep, had to sleep, a voice in my head told me, so I obliged to its call and succumbed myself to darkness.

LOCATION: The X-Mansion

_(after the cure)_

The night was dull and quiet around me; most of the lights in the X-Mansion were turned off and it looked like nothing was going on. I barely heard any noise coming from the inside as I got closer to my home.

I knew Jean was already dead. Unfortunately, I knew a lot of things; ever since the Professor asked me to take part in his experiment with Jean and it somehow backfired, I was knowledgeable about anything and everything that was tied to my beloved X-Men.

John had joined the Brotherhood for real, Mystique was dead, the Professor was dead, Bobby cheated on me with Kitty Pryde, Scott was emotionally damaged, and Logan killed Jean because he had to.

_And he also isn't here... _

I sighed sadly from my realization, but I continued my wandering through the X-Mansion anyway. Yeah, Logan was gone, but I could deal with it. I already had enough to deal with as it was. I had to deal with people talking to me about the cure, I had no one to help me with my secret now that the Professor was dead, and I had to break up with Bobby. My first day back home seemed like a huge whirligig of fun—let me tell you.

My heightened awareness told me that Bobby was in his room. I was surprised that I didn't sense Kitty in there as well, but I preferred it that way. As much as I resented her, I didn't want her to hear what I had to say to Bobby. She'd get her piece from me soon enough—I was sure.

I finally came to Bobby's door and knocked only once. I knew he'd answer. And then, like clockwork, I heard scrambling and shuffling from the other side of the door and within seconds, it was thrown open to reveal a very handsome, very put-together, very expectant looking Ice-Man.

When he saw it was me, however, I was quick to see that there was a change in his face. I wasn't the person he wanted to see. _Haha, like I didn't already know that?_

"Hey Bobby," I said before he got a chance to say anything. "You, uh, expecting some company?"

His face instantly flamed red and he looked down at what he was wearing—I guess as a way to examine how obvious he looked. He was, after all, dressed in a designer shirt and jeans, and he smelled like Dolce and Gabana. (And, let me also add that his hair was done with that cheap, Axe hair-mousse.) Yeah, I knew he wasn't expecting me to show up.

He looked back at me and cleared his throat. "I was, just, uh, trying these on. My parents sent me some clothes and stuff for my birthday."

I fixed him with a pointed look. "Your birthday isn't for another few months, and I know your parents, Bobby. They'd never send you something from home. They hate this place."

Knowing that he was caught in a lie, I could see how he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot and his eyes darted wildly down the hall. So, he was expecting little Kitty to come up here, was he?

"Look, Bobby, let me just get to the point, okay?" I said without restraint. "I know what's been going on with you and Kitty, and you don't have to try and deny anything anymore." My voice and eyes turned hard and I continued with, "I saw you two together on the ice. I saw everything that happened."

"Are you serious?" he asked in a low voice. "Rogue, come on, nothing really happened. It was a mistake, okay? You know I'd never purposely hurt you!"

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you wanted to hurt me or not—because the bottom line is you _did._ And now, to make it easier for you so you don't have to hide it anymore, I'm breaking up with you."

His face lost all color. "You... you're _breaking up_ with me?"

I nodded, and even smiled in a cocky way. "Yup. See ya around, Ice," I then flipped him the middle finger as I sauntered away, and I knew I left him with a bewildered look on his face.

_Time for a shower,_ I thought, and a feeling of longing passed through me. A shower was much needed right now. I had dealt with too much shit today. Never mind that I chickened out of the cure and literally went through all the pain that Jean had when Logan killed her—I was just emotionally drained from the changes going on in the mutant world.

My bedroom was coming in sight, and I smiled in relief. I wanted to run to it so I could throw open the door and leap happily onto my bed, but I was distracted when I saw something out of the corner of my eye: Professor Cyclops was sitting in a chair in the lounge with his head in his hands and an open bottle of Skyy vodka in his lap.

_Aw man,_ I thought as I examined his state of mind. _Poor dude's a wreck... Maybe I should talk to him?_

"Professor Summers?" I asked in a quiet voice. I knew I was playing a bit with fire here, but I felt like I had to talk to him in some attempt to cheer him up.

My assumption was proven correct when he waved me off. "Go away,"

I rolled my eyes at his pity party and did exactly the opposite. I walked over to him and sat down in the comfy chair beside him. "Professor, it's me, Rogue. I'm just seeing if you need to talk?"

He took a sip of vodka. "I don't need to _talk _to anyone, Rogue. What I need is to be left _alone._"

"And drink yourself into a self-pitying oblivion? I don't think so," I snatched the bottle out of his hands.

He looked up at me—finally—and I could tell there was a glare on his face. "Give me that bottle back," he demanded.

I shook my head. "You don't need to be drinking right now, Professor. I know you're hurting, but you're not the only one who is. Don't do this to yourself."

"Or what?" he challenged. "Are you going to try to stop me?"

I stuck my neck out in reply and said, _"Watch me."_

He turned away and laughed. "You have a lot of nerve, girl," he said.

I shrugged it off like it was a simple compliment. "Thanks, I know. Now, ya mind telling me what's going on in your head or what?"

"I'm _so _not having this conversation with you," he said in refusal. "You are way too young for me to be talking to you like this—and not only that, but I'm not too sure you'd be able to handle what any of this is about."

I shot him a fiery look. "Oh, you wanna bet?" I held up the hand that wasn't holding the vodka bottle and began ticking off my fingers with the Skyy. "Professor Xavier is dead, mutants are in huge trouble, Bobby has been cheating on me with Kitty, the cure didn't work, and Logan is nowhere to be found because he was the one who had to kill Jean at Alkali Lake. Looks like I'm handling all this bullshit rather well, don't ya think?" I then took my own hearty swig of vodka, just to accentuate that he couldn't boss me around from this moment on.

He looked at me, open-mouthed. "How do you know all that? I thought you... I thought you left."

"Apparently, I didn't," I replied flippantly. "But I know everything because it's been all over the news for one, and also because I heard people around the mansion talking about it."

He nodded. "That'll do it."

"So, you want to tell me why you're an emo kid now, or what?"

Professor Summers ran a hand through his hair. "You should know it's about Jean," he said in a small voice.

"Oh," I murmured, my voice low with embarrassment and sudden understanding. I had almost forgotten how much he really loved her... but she threw it away because of Logan. The thought of Logan made my stomach twist uncomfortably, and I felt myself starting to resent him and Jean for all the pain they caused. Serves them both right, I thought bitterly.

The need to speak my mind was overpowering, and I knew that in some way, Professor Summers would appreciate my honesty. I looked over at him, and when he caught my eye I said, "You know, fuck them both. All that shit that they made us put up with was uncalled for. I'm so _sick_ of Logan; if I ever see him again I'll give him a cut he can't heal from." I topped off my rant with another huge gulp of vodka.

I saw him raise an eyebrow. "You really feel that way about him?"

I nodded. "Swear on it that I do, Professor. What's the sense in loving someone who's always chasing after someone else to love? It kind of makes the whole 'relationship' thing one-sided."

He gave me a deep look, but didn't say anything.

I instantly questioned whether or not my mouth had gotten the best of me. I had a feeling I hurt his feelings. "I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I probably shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. I have the worst mouth in the world."

Still, nothing from him.

I put the Skyy bottle down and got up from my chair. "Um, I'm... I'm really sorry," I said stupidly. "I'll just be going now."

I turned around and started walking out of the lounge, but Professor Summers called me back.

"Rogue? Please... don't go. I'm not mad about what you said."

I turned my neck to look at him. "You're not?"

He sighed. "No... I... I'm not mad."

I slowly walked back over and sat down tentatively. "So... you're not going to fry me like an egg, then?"

He shook his head and even gave a small laugh. "No, I'm not mad, and I'm not going to turn you into a breakfast meal, either. I guess I just have to start believing the truth. I'm glad you came in here to talk to me. Storm gave up as soon as she saw me take the bottle of vodka here."

I winced. "Ouch, that's a little harsh."

"Yeah," he laughed again. "I thought the same thing."

"Glad I'm making you feel better, Professor," I replied with a smile.

"Do me a favor," he leaned closer and smiled, "don't call me 'professor' anymore, okay? Just call me by my name."

"You want me to call you 'Scott'?" I asked with an eyebrow raise.

He nodded. "Yeah, why not? You're not a student anymore, so it's not inappropriate. You're an X-Man now."

My chest swelled with pride. I couldn't believe Professor Summ- Scott- really thought that way about me. "I guess you're right," I said happily. "I am an X-Man now."

He smiled again. "I knew you wouldn't get the cure."

"Oh, yeah—that," I turned away from him. "I guess I just didn't want to be normal. Something told me I'd learn to control my mutation one day, so I decided I'd be patient and wait for that day to come."

He raised an eyebrow. "You really think you'll learn to touch without killing people?"

I shrugged. "Who knows?" _Not like I can tell you though..._

Scott looked at me and said in a sincere voice, "Well, I'm very happy for you, then."

I couldn't help but blush. "Thanks, Scott."

He nodded his chin towards the door and said, "You should probably get a move on. I'm going to sit here for a little longer before I go downstairs, but don't worry- I'm okay. You helped a lot."

"Anytime," I said lightly.

We bid each other goodnight, and then I made my way to my room. I took the refreshing shower I so desperately craved, and then finally was able to relax in my waiting bed. The sheets were so soft and my comforter hugged me warmly, and I felt my body instantly relax to its security.


	2. Chapter 2

IMPRINTED

_An Untold X-Men Saga_

_After the disaster of Alkali Lake and the death of Jean Grey—the world's most powerful mutant—comes a dawning of a new era that the X-Men always feared. The Brotherhood has finally arisen, alliances have shifted, and there is no one to protect the world from the clutches of the sinister Brotherhood leader, Magneto. People will die, slavery will ensue, and the enemies will reign supreme over the planet—unless, someone decides to stop them._

_ Rogue returns to the X-Mansion harboring a terrible secret. She is not the girl everyone used to know—and she's the kind of girl that doesn't want anyone to know her. For the secret she carries is so deadly, so dangerous, that anyone who finds out about it may wind up dead—or worse._

_ But that doesn't stop her from falling in love. Again. And it doesn't stop her from reconnecting with her first love—though, it should. For even Logan—the Wolverine—can't protect Rogue from Magneto this time. And Magneto truly isn't who Logan should be concerned about. Because, after all, Rogue has a secret, and that secret makes her a danger to none other than her own self._

Rated Mature for smut, violence, language, drug use, and other adult pleasantries.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter will be in a different tense, and Rogue's voice will be a little darker than the first. Some light-hearted banter will be used, of course, but the tone will generally be gloomier than before. Please enjoy!

IT'S THE SAME OLD dream again. The dream I've had every night since the incident in Professor X's laboratory. Every night when I close my eyes, I find her there. Watching. Waiting. It's always the same. Never anything different.

_She's always there for me._

_**"Rogue," **__she whispers, holding her hand out to me. __**"Join me."**_

_ "I can't," I always tell her. "You know I can't."_

_ I tell her that every time, but she never listens. Refuses to take "no" for an answer. She's so patient—so goddamned patient it's infuriating. She knows one day I'll give in—that it's only a matter of time because I can't hold out much longer._

_ And what scares me more than anything is that… she's right. I can't._

_**"You will," **__she smiles wickedly. __**"I know you. And I know what's inside of you. You want what I can give you."**_

___"SHUT UP!" I scream. "You don't know _anything_ about me!"_

_ She just laughs. The sound of it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. __**"Oh, I know everything about you. Everything there ever was, and everything that ever will be. I AM you, Rogue."**_

___"No! Stop! Just leave me alone!"_

_ And then she'll leave me. Like she always does._

_ But now, I miss her when she's gone. _

I wake up in a cold sweat. Shaking and swearing, I brush the sleep out of my eyes and look around my room in vain. Of course she's not here—not really, anyway—but every day I wake up worrying that somehow, she'll escape my subconscious and end up living as a physical entity again. Existing out of my head, in a place where it would be impossible to refuse her. A place where I can't wake up from.

_Fuck it, _I tell myself. _It was just a dream. As always. So get your ass out of bed and greet the day already._

I sit up and stretch, getting all the kinks out of my back and neck. The relief is slight, but it's a start. As my body wakes up, my mind starts to follow. My heightened senses pick up on the activity in the mansion, and I gather that I may be one of the last few to wake up for the day. A look on the clock on my wall tells me that I've slept for longer than expected.

_At least I can eat a hearty meal and find someone to help me get my fix, _I think to myself, and I brighten a bit at that thought.

I begin my morning routine in a haze. I start off with some yoga, followed by Tai Chi forms, and then end my warm-ups with a few minutes of meditation. I spend too much time in the shower—as usual—before getting dressed in black pants and a black shirt, and only bothering to give my hair a quick brush before slipping my feet in my Doc Martins and shoving my hands in my black gloves. I have no one to impress, so what the hell do I care about looking like a Goth kid?

I slip out of my room and pull the door firmly shut behind me. Taking a deep breath, I hang by the closed door for a minute, mentally preparing myself for seeing old faces and even meeting new ones. I know that everyone is curious about me; I mean, who _doesn't_ want to know about the freshly-cured girl with the life-sucking mutation, cheating boyfriend, and love interest for the man who killed the Phoenix? Let's be serious here.

Gathering my thoughts, I take a calming breath before leaving the sanctuary of my hiding spot and making my way downstairs to the kitchen. I pass a few unfamiliar faces along the way, but I don't bother to acknowledge their presence. They, however, don't hide their astonishment and curiosity for me.

_"Oh my God! It's _her!"

_"Whoa, so the rumors are true. Her hair _is_ freaky."_

_ "Um, Emo-chic, much?"_

_ "Love those boots."_

"I have ears, ya know," I call back to them over my shoulder. "And thanks girl. I love my boots, too."

I can tell I've put them all in stunned silence, but I don't turn around to see for sure. In all fairness though, they seemed pretty young to be here, and I remember what it was like to be their age. I guess I can forgive them for being a little rude since they're not old enough to know proper etiquette yet. Honestly though, not many adults behave much better so, they actually look like little angels to me. I just hope they grow out of being nosy—for their own sakes.

As I make my way to the kitchen though, everyone who sees me reacts in the same manner that the group of girls did upstairs. Now I'm starting to get annoyed. _Why hasn't anyone taught you brats some goddamned manners?_

I finally reach the kitchen and march straight over to the fridge. I grab a few cans of Coke and then open the freezer portion to see what's inside. Cartons of ice cream—nah. Bags of frozen fruit—ugh, seriously? Popsicles—what the hell is with this place? And finally! Boxes of DiGiorno pizza. _Thank God they still have junk food here._

I take off my gloves, not wanting to get them dirty. No one is around, and I figure there'd be no harm in taking them off for a while. I pull out the round pizza pan, rip open the box, place the frozen delight on the pan, and then set the oven to the appropriate temperature for it to preheat. I'm not really a patient person but, I have nothing else to do, so I opt for pulling up a stool at the counter and settling in to read the cooking magazine that was left on it. I'm not even a fan of cooking; Mama was big on it though, and always tried teaching me how to cook. I suppose I could learn. Now that I'm no longer a student, I probably have a lot of free time on my hands. Picking up a new hobby will be good for me.

I'm halfway through an article about the proper way of frying a chicken country style when I sense someone is coming into the kitchen. I look up just in time to see a disgruntled Cyclops shuffling through the door.

"Well good-mornin, sunshine!" I greet him, accentuating my Southern drawl. "My, oh my, don't we look a fright this mornin'? Ya feelin' alright, sugah? Want me to gather up some coffee for ya, hunny?"

"For fuck's sake, Rogue," Professor Cyclops grunts, "please don't talk so loud. My head is killing me."

"That's 'cause ya drank so much last night, sugah. Didn't I tell ya to put that damn bottle away? Lord have mercy, Professor. I reckon I ain't eva seen a man look so torn up."

Cyclops just grunts another response and pulls a stool up to the counter, placing himself across from me. I open my mouth for another smart remark, but immediately clamp it shut when the poor man lets his head fall on the counter with a smack.

"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," he moans.

I bite my lip to keep myself from giggling, and decide to help him out. My Mama did raise me to be a lady, after all.

"Professor, I could make ya some coffee—if ya'd like," I tell him, keeping my voice in a soft whisper. "I didn't mean to uh—ya know—bust your balls."

"Coffee would be fabulous," he mutters. "And could you please get me something for my head?"

"Of course." I cross over to the cabinets and retrieve a bottle of Tylenol, and then grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Mama always told me never to swallow a pill on an empty stomach, so I also grab a bag of grapes. Not much, but I figured it's better than nothing. "Here ya are, Professor," I set the bowl of grapes and the bottle of water in front of him.

Professor Cyclops's brows furrow when he sees what I've put in front of him. "Where's my coffee? And my goddamn Tylenol? And… what the hell? Are those grapes?"

He just said "grapes" like they're something nasty, and that makes my temper flare up. I hate an ungrateful man.

"Ya need somethin' in your stomach before I give ya any medicine, Professor. Now, I'll gladly give ya the Tylenol after ya eat a few grapes and drink a bit of water. Don't want ya getting' sick, now."

"Oh God, _why_ are you talking like that? I thought you got rid of that damn accent."

"Ya got a problem with the way I say my words, sugah?" I fire at him, placing my hands on my waist. "I'll have ya know, I always had this accent. I just tried to hide it 'cause y'all New Yorkers don't understand a lick of what I'm sayin' and I got tired of explainin' every damn thing to y'all. But since I been away, I spent a little time near my hometown, and needless to say, I picked right back up on my drawl. I like it, Professor. And if ya get a problem with it then don't evah talk to me, ya hear?"

Without waiting for a reply, I slam the bottle of Tylenol on the counter. The pills inside rattle loudly, causing Professor Cyclops to groan again. I smile at that, and start to busy myself with making coffee. The quicker I can help him out, the quicker he'll shut up.

Just as I press the button on the coffee maker to get the beans to mix with the water, the oven lets me know that it's preheated. I then take the pizza off the stove top, slide it on the rack, and set the timer on the oven as the box directs before joining Professor back at the counter. He's not looking at me, but I still give his sour expression a harsh glare. _Miserable bastard, _I sneer inwardly at him. _I think I like you so much better when you're drunk. _

I flush, remembering last night, and how intimate our conversation was. The details of it come rushing back to me, and I immediately start to feel bad about how I just treated him. The love of his life just died, and the man she secretly desired took her life because she lost her sanity and nearly killed the world. An inner voice whistles in my head. _That's a harsh pill for anyone to swallow._

"Professor?"

Professor Cyclops looks up, locking his eyes with mine. "I thought I told you to call me by my name."

I gulp nervously. "Ya did ask me to do that, but I'm afraid that makes me a little uncomfortable."

"Why? You're a woman now, Rogue," he says, and pops a grape in his mouth. "And you're also an X-Man. We're on the same level now, so there's no reason why you should be feeling uncomfortable."

"I guess it's just a habit," I shrug. "And besides, we've… you and I have never really… talked before."

"Except for last night."

"Yes," I nod. "Except for last night."

We then sit in an uncomfortable silence. I'm not sure of what to say, and I can sense that he's not ready to break the silence, either. He just eats his grapes and takes sips of his water, totally avoiding all eye contact with me. _The hell is going on here? Why am I suddenly so nervous to be around Professor Cyclops? And why is he acting so strange towards me? It's just me—plain old Rogue. Nothing new here._

_Hahahaha, _that inner voice laughs. _Aren't you forgetting something?_

The coffee maker suddenly beeps, and Professor Cyclops and I jump to our feet at the same time. Well, _I _jump to my feet. He, on the other hand, nearly face-plants on the ground.

I rush over to help him back on the stool. "I can get that," I tell him in my best soothing voice. "Why don't ya just relax? Here, read this," I slide the magazine over to him. "I'll fix ya some coffee."

"I can get it, Rogue," he protests gruffly.

"Now, don't ya take that tone with me, Professor," I chide, pointing my finger at him. "My Mama raised me with some manners, ya hear? And when a man needs some assistance, it's part of a woman's nature to help that man out. I'll get ya some coffee, and I don't wanna hear another word out of ya tellin' me not to."

He surprises me by chuckling. "Okay," he relents. "You can fix me up some coffee. No cream though, just sugah."

I blush when he says "sugar" the way I do, but I try to ignore it by fashioning together his caffeine. My hands though, shake as they reach for the sugar shaker, and I fight myself from covering the counter with the sweet granules. I don't know what the hell has gotten into me today, but I damn sure need to find my fix and find it quick.

I set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him without another word and take my place back on the stool. Glancing over at the timer, I'm relieved that there's only a few minutes left before the pizza finishes its cooking. I'm absolutely starving right now.

"Mmm," Professor Cyclops smacks his lips appreciatively. "You made it perfectly. Just enough sugar to give it flavor, but not so much that it's sickening sweet."

I just shrug in response. Like it's that hard to make a damn pot of coffee? Please. Southerners _live_ off the stuff.

"So, can I ask you a question?"

"I guess."

"Why did you come back, Rogue?"

I look at him and shrug. "I guess 'cause I really had nowhere else to go. It's not like I could go back home… not after what I did."

Professor Cyclops nods in understanding. "But you know that what you did was an accident, right? You know you couldn't have prevented what you did to that boy. It was just a freak accident. You didn't know any better."

"Yeah," I laugh without humor. "'Freak' being the operative word, there."

"You're not a freak," he says in a stern voice. "You are anything _but_ a freak."

"Easy for you to say!" I retort. "You're problem is you can't look at someone with your naked eye without turning them into a pile of ash. Whoop-de-doo, Professor. Big fuckin' deal. At least you can still _see_ with your mutation. I can't even _touch_ someone without killin' them. Don't ya think that makes me a freak?"

"No. I think it makes you special."

I shake my head. "No. You're wrong. I'm a freak, Professor. I'm a freak that doesn't even know what it feels like to touch someone anymore. I'm a freak that… can't ever have a normal relationship with somebody because I can't ever give them what they want."

"What happened with you and Bobby? You guys seemed like you were doing pretty good before you left."

I fix him with an icy look. "I told you what happened," I growl at him. "He was cheating on me with Kitty Pryde."

"That little girl that can jump through walls? Ha! What a dumbass."

_Whoa. _My eyebrows jump up in surprise. That certainly was an unexpected comment to come from him. Unexpected or not though, I can't help but agree. And I really don't know what to say to that, but the laugh that escapes me is pretty much self-explanatory.

"You can do better than that, Rogue," Professor Cyclops continues. "Kitty Pryde is a cute girl—I'll give her that—but she's not half the woman you are, and will never be half the woman you're going to be. Bobby is going to regret that. You wait. He'll regret it."

I blink in surprise. "Um… th-thank you, Professor." _Ugh, can you say: UNEXPECTED? _"I really… um… I really don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he shrugs. "Just know it's true."

He looks at me then—like, _really_ looks at me—and I swear I can feel the heat of his gaze through his protective glasses, staring into my soul. Penetrating. Probing. Insistent, urging, intense… I could stare into his eyes all day. Or rather, his sunglasses, but this girl ain't complainin'. Professor Scott Summers isn't a bad sight to behold. His body is lean and muscular… his hair has that classic Clark Kent style… and his lips are so…

_BEEP. BEEP. BEEP._

I jump at the sound of the timer, nearly knocking over the stool in the process. So ungraceful. Ugh.

"Um… I'm gonna get that," I stammer stupidly, and practically leap the distance to the oven to retrieve my pizza. In my haste though, I forget oven-mitts, and grab the pan from the oven with my bare hands. The pain finally registers when I slam the pan on the stove top, and I cry out as the burning sensation finally sets in. "OH… _FUCK._ OH, FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK… _FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"_

"What happened?" Professor Cyclops exclaims at the same time I scream, "MY HANDS! OH GOD, WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T I PUT ON MY DAMN GLOVES?!"

I don't even hear him get up from his seat or even register that he's standing next to me—the pain is so intense—but when he takes my burned hands in his, holding them through a dishtowel he grabbed, the action kicks my awareness into overdrive.

"Damn," he murmurs softly, "these are going to blister up." He looks up at me and once again, I'm held captive by his red-tinted gaze. "We need to get these treated before your skin puffs up. They might be second-degree."

All I can do is nod. I'm quite stupefied at this point, and in all honesty, I'm down-right embarrassed. _Way to fucking go, Rogue!_

My brain then enters a hazy state, and I become unaware of my surroundings. My nerve endings all seem to be concentrated in my hands, making me unable to comprehend anything else. The pain is growing, searing, and I want so bad for it to stop. So… so bad. Professor Cyclops is talking, but I can't make out what he's saying. My hands hurt so much, and there's nothing to distract me from this agony. Why didn't I grab the damn oven-mitt? Why am I so goddamned pig-headed sometimes? Why can't I—for once—be calm, cool, and collected, and act like an adult woman with common sense? _Earth, _I pray, _please crack open and swallow me up in your depths. I would be so grateful for that._

I realize the professor is still speaking to me, trying to calm me down, but I'm still unable to understand him. I just want the pain to end. It hurts so much. _Please, please, _I beg. _Please make the pain go away. God, I can't take this. It hurts so much. Why the fuck didn't I put my gloves back on?! _I bite my tongue to keep my screams at bay. I squeeze my eyes shut so tight that tears start to pour down my cheeks. _Please… make it stop._

_**Do you want me to make it stop? **_A soft, silky voice whispers to me.

I snap my eyes open in surprise. Looking around, I try to place where the voice could've come from, but I only see Professor Cyclops here. He grabs me by the arm and starts to pull me over to the sink. I think my hands are beyond the treatment of cold water, but I can't find the words to tell him that. But that voice… where did it come from? And why does it sound so familiar?

_**Do you want the pain to stop, Rogue?**_

I look around again, hoping in vain to see someone around, but there's still only Professor Cyclops and I.

I hear that same voice chuckle softly. _**He can't hear me, sweetie. Only you can hear me. **_

_Who… who are you? _I mentally ask, assuming that the voice I'm hearing is inside my head.

_**You know who I am, Rogue. You've always known. But that's not important. What is important is me helping you. Will you let me help you?**_

This is insane. I know it is. But what other choice do I have? Professor Cyclops may be an X-Man, but he's obviously too hung-over to give proper first aid, and if I don't get some kind of help for myself, my hands are going to blister up and I'll be unable to use them for a while. That's not something I can afford to do. Not at all. I have no other choice but to let the crazy person inside my head help me out.

_Please, _I tell it. _Please do whatever you can. Just… don't do anything horrible._

The voice chuckles again. _**You have my word. Now… relax. Let me become you.**_

That's the weirdest request I've ever heard, but I do as instructed. I try hard to center myself, in gathering all the calm I can muster, and open my mind to what this mystery voice is going to do for me.

And then, a new awareness fills me. My mind feels as though it's being opened, hollowed-out. I tense in alarm, wondering what the hell is going on, when I feel as though an intruder has just settled into the forefront of my consciousness. _What the hell? _Panicked, I try to push whoever it is out of my mind, but I guess because of the pain in my hands, I'm unable to do so. But I want to fight… it feels right to fight…

The realization of what is happening dawns on me.

"Nooooooo!" I bellow, my voice cracking with the effort of using physical speech. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

_**Stay calm, Rogue! **_The voice—I know who it is now—commands. _**You said I could help, and that's what I'm going to do. I will not hurt you. I promise. I will NOT hurt you.**_

_Then make it quick, goddamn you. Make this fucking quick._

_**If you relax, I will.**_

I grit my teeth in answer.

The invader, firmly placed where it wants—and has always wanted—to be, starts to begin its work. Instantly, I can feel a cooling sensation working its way from my skull down my body, until it finally settles home in my hands. I can feel myself gasp and cry out, but sound evades me as the healing process takes place. My hands get cold and I feel my teeth chattering with the effort of the rejuvenation, but I don't want it to stop. It feels almost… _pleasant. _

And before I know it, the cold disappears.

Along with the pain.

I blink my eyes open in surprise. The pain. It's… _gone._

"Holy shit."

My eyes snap up to Professor Cyclops's face, and all color leaves my cheeks. _Oh God, _I gulp. _He SAW._

"Rogue," he whispers nervously, "what… what ar_e_ you?"

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Well, that's it for the 2nd chapter! I hope you like it better than the 1st. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much more than the previous one. More surprises will be in store, so stick around if you wanna see what happens with Rogue (;

Rate & Review, please! All thoughts and critiques welcome! 3


	3. Chapter 3

IMPRINTED

_An Untold X-Men Saga_

_After the disaster of Alkali Lake and the death of Jean Grey—the world's most powerful mutant—comes a dawning of a new era that the X-Men always feared. The Brotherhood has finally arisen, alliances have shifted, and there is no one to protect the world from the clutches of the sinister Brotherhood leader, Magneto. People will die, slavery will ensue, and the enemies will reign supreme over the planet—unless, someone decides to stop them._

_ Rogue returns to the X-Mansion harboring a terrible secret. She is not the girl everyone used to know—and she's the kind of girl that doesn't want anyone to know her. For the secret she carries is so deadly, so dangerous, that anyone who finds out about it may wind up dead—or worse._

_ But that doesn't stop her from falling in love. Again. And it doesn't stop her from reconnecting with her first love—though, it should. For even Logan—the Wolverine—can't protect Rogue from Magneto this time. And Magneto truly isn't who Logan should be concerned about. Because, after all, Rogue has a secret, and that secret makes her a danger to none other than her own self._

Rated Mature for smut, violence, language, drug use, and other adult pleasantries.

I DO NOT OWN _X-Men, _Rogue, Wolverine, Cyclops, or the other characters that belong in this work of fiction except for the ones I have created on my own. The plot, the lemons, and the dialogue rightfully belong to me, however I do not profit from this work in any type of way financially. I am merely doing it for the love of writing, and for the entertainment of my readers. The fine men of Marvel Comics own the majority of this fic—I'm just merely playing with the pieces they've given me. Please enjoy!

_WHAT HAVE I DONE? Oh, Christ on a Stick, what the HELL have I just done?!_

"What are you, Rogue?" Professor Cyclops repeats.

"I—I—I don't…" I start to say, but can't find the words to continue. _What _the hell can I tell him? What the hell could I possibly to say to explain to him what just happened?

"Oh my God, what's going on?"

Professor Cyclops and I turn our heads at the same time to see a small crowd gathered by the door. Most of the faces are ones I don't recognize, but as I look more intently at them, I notice that Kitty Pryde stands among them. Bobby, however, is nowhere in sight.

Kitty catches me looking at her and pushes her way forward in the crowd. "Rogue," she whispers softly, like she's speaking to a feral tiger, "are you okay?"

_Fuck you,_ I want to tell her. I can't believe this girl has the _nerve_ to talk to me when she stole my boyfriend from me behind my back!

I open my mouth to say something to her—that would probably make my Mama have a heart attack—when Professor Cyclops answers for me.

"She's fine, Kitty," he tells her. "Rogue just burned herself on the pizza pan. No big deal."

Kitty arches a brow at him. "Didn't sound like that to me. Sounded like something a little more serious than that."

"I forgot to put oven-mitts on my hands and I'm also not wearing my gloves, okay?" I fire at her, the harshness of my tone making her flinch. _Good. _I continue on, saying, "This is none of your business—OR ANYONE ELSE'S BUSINESS—for that matter." I look behind her and shoot daggers at the kids standing in the hallway. They scamper away, as they should.

Kitty, however, stays put.

"Rogue is fine, Kitty," Professor Cyclops repeats. "Why don't you go to your classes? I'll take Rogue to see Storm, and everything will be fine. She just can't tolerate pain very well on her hands—keeping them constantly covered, you know."

Kitty nods her head, but her eyes tell me she isn't buying it. _Smart girl, _I note. _But not smart enough to know that it's trashy as hell to steal a man from another woman. _"Rogue?" Kitty says to me, her voice light.

I arch a brow at her. "What?"

"It's good that you're back," she says. Before I can say anything, she quickly turns around and walks away, leaving Professor Cyclops and I alone in the kitchen.

And I'm completely dumbfounded.

"Huh," Professor Cyclops grunts beside me.

I look over at him. "What?"

He shrugs. "That was… unexpectedly nice of her."

"'Nice' isn't the word I'd use to describe what she just did."

"Oh yeah?" he laughs. "And what would _you_ call what she did?"

"Stupid. She's lucky I didn't wrap my hands around her neck and suck the life right out of her just now."

"Speaking of your hands…" Professor Cyclops whispers, and grabs the dishcloth again. "Let me see them."

I take a step back. "They're fine, Professor."

"I still want to see," he replies, reaching forward.

I take another step back. "No!"

But I can see that the Cyclops doesn't want to take "no" for an answer. "You will let me see your hands, Rogue."

"And if I don't?" I challenge him.

He answers by dipping his head lower and taking a step toward me. I don't move—I stand my ground. Goddamnit, I am _not_ going to let him boss me around like I'm some little kid. "Just… _please_ let me see, Rogue. I promise you that I won't tell anyone what happened."

"Nothin' happened, Professor," I hiss through clenched teeth. "I healed myself—so what? Ya act like ya've nevah seen a Mutant do that before."

"As a matter of fact, I _have_ seen a Mutant do that before, and I'm quite curious as to knowing how you came across such a feat. You didn't have that kind of power before."

"Like I said, I've been away and I learned a few things. Big. Fucking. Deal."

"Just let me see," he whispers, his voice pleading. "Just… _please_ let me see."

I roll my eyes, but decide to let him take a look. What would be the harm in that? Besides, if I don't let him, he probably won't let me leave this kitchen. And I would _really_ like to get a move on so I can eat my pizza and go find my goddamned release already. "Fine, Professor," I huff, holding my hands up at eyelevel. "Take your peek."

His lip draws up in a smirk. "I like when you're amenable."

"And _I_ like when ya don't tell me what to do and I can go about my damn business."

"So feisty," he chuckles, and takes my hands in his towel-covered ones. "Must be the Southern-spices y'all Mississippi girls got in ya blood."

"Ya have the _worst _Southern accent I've evah heard, Professor," I tell him, batting my eyes in the signature 'Belle way.

"Ya like it, darlin'. Now, let's take a look at these hands."

"Fine," I huff.

He lifts his hands up, using the towel to carefully turn my hands palms-up so he can examine where the burns used to be. "Well, I'll be damned," he whispers. "They really are gone."

"Told ya."

"I'll be damned," he repeats, his voice laced in astonishment. He looks up at me, awe-struck. "How'd you do that, Rogue?"

I slip my hands out of his grasp and move further away from him, tucking my hands firmly in the back of my jeans. "It's just somethin' I picked up on," I lie, shrugging. "I really don't know what I can tell ya, Professor."

He lets out a bark of humorless laughter. "Don't lie to me, Rogue."

"I'm not," I tell him, avoiding his gaze.

He looks like he's about to say more, but I don't want to give him the opportunity to do so. I quickly go to the cupboard to grab a plate, and open a drawer near the oven for the pizza cutter. After cutting the pizza in hasty, uneven pieces, I slap three of them on my plate before facing Professor Cyclops again.

"Ya can have the rest," I point to the pizza. "This'll be fine for me. Thanks for helpin' me, Professor. I'll see ya later."

And before he can call me back, I grab my gloves off the counter and dash out of the kitchen and head straight for outside—refusing to look back at his bewildered face.

XxXxX

"HEY KID," I CALL out. "Come here."

The boy gives me a startled expression and points to himself as if asking, "Me? You want to talk to _me_?"

"Yes, I want to talk to ya!" I reply in exasperation. "Now come here!"

He looks around for a second nervously, as if he doesn't want to get caught talking to me. I roll my eyes. _Typical._ He then jogs over to the tree I'm sitting under, but makes no move to get close to me. _I'm not fuckin' contagious you asshole, _I want to shout at him. _I'll only hurt ya if I touch you—not if I breathe on ya. _I can't help but feel a little insulted.

"Ya know, I ain't gonna hurt ya if ya breathe the same air as me," I tell him in a sharp voice. "So can ya just stop actin' all nervous and fidgety? Ya make me a bit uncomfortable."

"S-sorry," he stammers, and drops into a crouch before me. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm a customer lookin' to make a purchase, kid."

His eyes widen in surprise at my response. I smirk at that. I love catching people off guard. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he nervously swallows. _Oh yeah, _I muse, _I definitely still got it._

"Wh—what are you lookin' for?" he whispers. "I got grass, powder, some liquid l—"

I cut him off. "Gimme a Henry of grass."

"A… a what?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

I roll my eyes, totally in disbelief that this idiot is a fucking drug-dealer. "An eighth, sugah. I would like to purchase an eighth."

"Oh," he mutters, settling himself back on his heels. "Well, I don't carry weight on me. I only carry bags. If you want though, you can walk with me to the supplier. He's in his room right now."

"Fine," I shrug. "I like to know who I'm gettin' my stuff from anyway. Call me an old-fashioned kinda gal but, I like doin' business face-to-face."

The surprises me by laughing, and that makes me smile in turn. I knew I could get him to warm up to me with my Southern charm. 'Cause what man can resist a country gal?

"Let's go then. You got your money?"

"Yup," I nod. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't have it."

"I like you already," he smiles as he stands up. "I'm Nick, by the way."

"I'm Rogue, and I'd shake ya hand, but I don't think ya'd want me to touch ya."

Nick laughs again. "Nah, that's alright. And by the way—I think the gloves are cool. So is your hair. Is it true that the white parts are scars, or did you just dye your hair like that?"

"They're scars," I tell him, giving him a small smile. I'm not keen on remembering what happened between Magneto and I on that frightful night, but I must say that having bi-colored hair as a result isn't such a bad gig. In fact, I get more male attention—and female—_because_ of the white streaks in my hair, so why complain?

"That's friggin' cool. I mean—not saying that how you got them is cool but—the fact that they're there and they look cool…" Nick trails off and shoots me an apologetic look. "Sorry. I'm new here and I'm actually not very good at talking to people. I don't know how to shut my mouth sometimes."

I laugh off his apology and opt for putting him at ease. "Don't worry about it, Nick. I suffer from the same problem, hunny. I wish I had a filter for my gob, and my Mama would second that without hesitatin'."

Nick laughs again, but it comes out more natural—like he's finding his comfort zone. That makes me feel a bit better. I may not want to make friends here, but I wouldn't mind having a few friendly faces to talk to when the loneliness sets in. And plus, it's always a good thing to be friends with the people who provide you with your fix. Makes business more enjoyable for both parties, if you ask me.

Nick and I continue on with our light conversation. None of us ask personal questions—like what our mutations are, where we come from, or what caused us to wind up at the X-Mansion. I'm sure Nick knows all about my past—or whatever the rumors of it are—but he doesn't ask any clarification about my pedigree info. I prefer it that way; I'll gab about the weather, bitch about the homework, and talk about my favorite flavor of ice cream, but I sure as hell won't tell anyone what I've been through. I refuse to get close to anyone ever again. I'm just not cut out for friendships, I guess.

We finally arrive on the top floor, at the last door at the end of the hall. Nick knocks three times in a strategic manner. It comes out sounding like: knock, knock… KNOCK. I'm guessing that's code for, "I have a customer who requests your presence."

A few seconds later the door swings open, revealing a shirtless blonde guy that's very attractive. "What's up?" he asks Nick.

"Got a customer here for you, Warren," Nick replies in a low voice.

The guy—Warren—then turns to look at me. When his eyes take in my hair, his face pales a few shades and he swallows nervously. I want to smile at his reaction, but I don't want to piss him off and risk my chances of not getting what I've asked for. Besides, I'm used to that type of response from people and I've grown to rather like it rather than get offended over it.

Warren takes a deep breath and steps out of the doorway simultaneously. "I know you," he states, his breath coming out in a throaty whisper. "Your name is Rogue."

"Yeah," I smile at him. "I'm Rogue. And your name is Warren, right?"

"You got my dad's cure."

_Oh great, _I inwardly shudder. Out of all the topics I want to avoid, that particular one is _definitely_ top of the list. But what he just said intrigues me; his _dad's_ cure? My eyes widen in sudden recognition. _Oh my God,_ I gasp. _I know who he is! He's…_

"You're the Angel," I breathe, taking a small step toward him. "You're the Mutant with wings. I've… I've heard a lot about you," I explain to him, not wanting to sound rude. "I heard you broke out of your father's lab when he tried to give you the serum. I thought you were just a story—a legend."

Warren laughs and his eyes travel down the length of my body. "As I thought about you. But here you are, in the flesh, and you'd like to be one of my customers? Damn," he whistles, and laughs again as he shakes his head. "I'll be damned."

I just smile back, unsure of what to say to that. I'm not used to this "celebrity" status and I'm not a fan of being in the spotlight, so I don't know how to react to his words—especially when they're an eerie echo of ones that were used by Professor Cyclops from earlier. Warren though, seems to enjoy the spotlight. I can't say I blame him. I'll bet he's used to being the center of attention—with a body like his and the face he has, I wouldn't be surprised if he was the new heartthrob of the X-Mansion.

"Nick," Warren says, turning to his lackey. "You can go back to whatever you were doing. I can take it from here with Rogue."

"Alright boss," Nick salutes him. Then he turns to me with his fist raised. "It was nice to officially meet you, Rogue. Would it hurt me if you gave me a fist-bump?"

"No," I laugh. "As long as I have the gloves on, I can't hurt you." I bump my fist with his and smile. "It was nice to meet you too, kid. I'll see you around."

"Cool," he nods. "Catch ya later, Warren."

Warren watches Nick leave, but I can see him peeking out of his peripheral vision to look at me. I flush at that, wondering what's going through his head. I hope he's not going to come on to me. I may like the attention I receive from men, but I sure as hell don't like when they want to taste the eye-candy. As long as he minds his manners and acts like a gentleman though, we'll be on good terms. Dealer or not, I don't take anyone's shit.

When Nick is no longer in sight, Warren then turns to look at me head-on. Once again, I'm momentarily blinded by how good looking he is, and want to make sure I keep my thoughts to myself. Mixed signals are never a good idea.

"Would you like to come in, Rogue?" he asks in a polite voice. His eyes stay locked on mine, giving me a clue as to what his motives are. I don't detect anything malicious in his gaze though, so I simply nod. That makes him smile, and he steps away from the door with his hand sweeping forward and says, "after you, milady."

I laugh. "Thank ya kindly, sir."

I step into his room and take in his quarters in appreciation. He keeps his room in clean order—save for a few sweatshirts that are thrown haphazardly on the floor near his bathroom. There's a desk in the corner with a Mac laptop laying closed, along with assorted books and notebooks scattered around it. Posters of the movies _The Departed, The Matrix, _and _Your Highness _decorate the walls around the desk, along with a bunch of other great films. My eyes sweep over his entertainment center with his flat-screen television and Playstation 4, as well as his lounge chair and oak dresser in the other corners. I don't look at the bed though; looking at a boy's bed always leads to trouble.

"Nice room," I tell him. "I love the movie _Boondock Saints._ It's one of my favorites. I like that you have it as part of your poster collection. But the sequel sucked ass."

Warren laughs. "My sentiments exactly. Would you care to sit down? I have an extra chair I can pull up."

"Sure," I smile. "That'd be great. Thank you."

"Not a problem," he says as he retrieves one of those fold-up lounge chairs my father used to bring to tailgate the Mississippi Bulldogs games. To my surprise though, he takes that seat and gestures for me to sit in the lounge chair. "Take a seat."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise as I sink into the plush cushion. "I could've taken that chair, Warren. You didn't have to give me this one."

"You're a guest," he says with a shrug. "And, you're also a lady. Ladies should never sit on polyester."

_Oh what a gentleman, _I laugh. "Thank you, that's sweet."

"So," Warren says, picking up a remote. "How much weed did you want?"

"An eighth," I tell him as I settle further back.

He nods. "We'll discuss the pricing and all that after you give it a try. I don't want you spending your money on something you can't handle."

"Can't handle?" I retort. "What do you mean? What kind of grass are you growing?"

"My dad's a scientist," he says with a sly grin. "I picked up on a few tricks. I tweaked the hydroponics system a bit, and was able to figure out a way to naturally stimulate more THC for higher potency. It's pretty strong stuff—it might knock you on your ass."

I arch an eyebrow at him. "I doubt that."

He just shrugs and says, "We'll see. But first, let me re-pack this bong. While I do that, find a movie on Netflix."

As Warren grinds up the buds and stuffs them into the bowl part of the piece, I peruse the movie options. There's not much of a selection, and most of the titles are B-rated, but I eventually settle on a horror movie that looks promising. I ask for his approval, and Warren gives it to me with a small nod. He seems like an easy guy to get along with that hasn't tried anything funny on me so far, so I allow myself to get more relaxed in his presence. _Besides, _I add to myself, _if the fucker tries anything, I'll rip his goddamned wings right out of his back and stuff them so far down his throat he'd be shittin' feathers for a month._

Warren then interrupts my inner-musings by passing me the bong. "Go ahead, girl. Take your hit."

"Thanks," I say as I take the piece carefully in my hands. It's nice, and I can tell it's homemade. It actually reminds me of the beakers I'd see in chemistry class. The body part of it is a beaker, with a drilled hole in the front that was probably made from a diamond drill-bit that has a glass tube connecting it to the bowl piece, and the inside is full of percolators with two carbonation holes on the side for an extra SMACK when taking the hit. I'm actually a bit terrified by it—but I'm not gonna let Warren know that. I then pull a lighter out of my jeans and bravely flick it to ignite the weed.

_Holy shit! _I take the lighter away and let the bud burn for a few seconds, watching as the bong fills up with smoke and can't help but think that I may have made a mistake by ripping such a strong hit. But I'm not a wuss, and I'm determined to finish what I've started. So I remove the bowl piece from the bong and inhale all the milky smoke inside—sucking wildly like I've never inhaled anything before. I manage to hold the hit in for three seconds before I lose all control and start coughing up my lungs.

Warren laughs from beside me.

"Oh… FUCK," I croak, passing the bong back to me. "Lord… have… MERCY!"

"You alright there, sweetheart?" Warren chuckles.

I shoot him a death glare as I clutch my throat. "Just… freakin'… _peachy, _sugah"

He laughs again. "It's a killer, ain't it?"

"The weed or the bong?" I rasp. Thankfully the coughs are starting to subside a bit, but my throat still feels raw and scorched. _Damn, that shit _is_ strong._

"Both, I guess," he smirks. "I made this bad-boy myself. I call him 'The Hulk.'"

"I can see why," I reply dryly.

His smirk just deepens and he then takes his own hit. I watch in annoyance as he expertly inhales the smoke and holds the hit longer than I did before blowing it out—without coughing. I roll my eyes. He obviously likes to show off.

But—he was right. What he's been growing is incredibly potent. I can already feel the marijuana's magic coursing through my brain.

And everything that happened from that moment on is a big blur to me.

I hazily remember starting the movie—a horrible yet freaky film that looked a lot like _Paranormal Activity_—and Warren passing the bong between us before the bud was reduced to ash and residue. He offered to pack it again, but I refused, and that made him laugh. That was all I remember though, before blacking out.

I came to when the credits finished rolling. I shot up out of the lounge chair and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. _Goddamnit! I fuckin' fell asleep. I've _never_ passed out while smoking before! Ugh. Whatever. If Warren says somethin' I'll just blame it on his comfy chair._

"Ah so, Sleeping Beauty finally wakes," he announces.

I sit up in the chair and flip him the bird. "Sit on it and spin, bro."

The Angel throws back his head and lets out a hearty laugh. "Can't say I didn't warn you though. That shit is powerful. You sure you still want an eighth of it?"

"Definitely," I nod. "Besides me bein' able to build up a tolerance for it, I'll be a regular customer from here on out. And thank ya, by the way, for allowin' me to try it first."

"No problem, Rogue. It's what I do, and I like to make my consumers happy."

I give him a small, grateful smile and fish out the money. "Here you go," I hand it to him.

But he pushes my hand away, and I arch my brow in surprise. "No need to pay me."

"Huh? Why?" I narrow my eyes at him. I don't like generosity—I really don't believe that it exists. Nothing in this world is for free. People will always want something from you in return, and I don't like having to owe someone.

"Because I said so," he tells me in a tone that is laden in finality.

I open my mouth to protest, but he's already up out of his seat and walking over to his oak dresser. He pulls open the top, fishes out a Ziploc bag that's halfway full of weed, and tosses it to me. I catch it in the hand that's not holding the money.

I crinkle the bills in my hand as I get up and walk over to Warren. I stop in front of him, with a few feet between us, and find it a little difficult to look in his eyes since he's so damn tall. But as I stand there looking at him, trying to gauge his intentions for giving me a bag of free weed, I can't help but once again become captivated by how gorgeous he is. His Mutation name fits him perfectly. With the messy blond hair, fair skin, and sky-blue eyes, he really does look like an angel.

But also so fucking tempting at the same time.

As if reading where my thoughts are going, Warren reaches out and grabs the hand that's still holding the money and presses it to my side. "Keep your money," he whispers.

"But why?" I venture, my tone matching his. The air around us has suddenly thinned, making everything hotter and much more intimate. The space between us no longer seems like a few feet—it feels like we're fused together. And for some strange reason, my eyes refuse to leave his.

"Because Rogue," he answers, his hand now caressing mine. "I want you to have it. But…"

_Of fucking course! _I clench my teeth. I _knew_ there was a catch! I just fucking _knew it! _"But what?" I reply, my voice hardening.

Warren just shakes his head and I see pleading and understanding present in his gaze, as if he knows I'm thinking the wrong thing and he wants to correct his sudden mistake. "I just want to know you, that's all. I don't want anything from you except to know you, Rogue. If you're going to continue buying from me, then I want us to have more than just a business relationship."

"I'm not goin' to date ya," I seethe. "I don't date."

"I'm not asking you to date me," he sighs, and removes his hand from mine. "I'm just asking for a friend—that's all. I just want your friendship."

I cock an eyebrow at him and I'm about to say another snarky remark when I'm interrupted by a cellphone ringing.

"Fuck," Warren moans. He walks over to his bed and fishes his Iphone out of the blanket. He looks at the screen for a second before glancing back up at me. "This is a business call. I gotta take it. Don't worry about the money. Like I said, keep it. You can think about everything else I said. Hope you enjoy your fix."

I clamp my mouth shut and swallow the lump in my throat, deciding it's time to bail. I tuck the Ziploc bag in my shirt and walk toward the door. As I leave the room, I drop the money on the floor, letting the crisp bills slip through my fingers as I close the door shut behind me. I know he'll see it whenever he leaves.

As I make my way to my room, I can't help but feel a type of way about his request. But I can't think about that right now. There are other more important matters that need to be sorted through first—starting with what the hell happened to me today in the kitchen.

I reach my room and shut the door softly behind me, setting the lock in place. "Finally," I breathe, "I'm alone."

XxXxX

HOURS LATER I LAY in my bed, feeling high yet so low at the same time.

Ever since I came in my room, rolled myself a small joint, and collapsed on my mattress my mind has been running a marathon with everything that had occurred today.

Being the most recent event, I started thinking of Warren the Angel. I honestly didn't know what to make of him though; sure he's beautiful and he polite, but there was something about him that I just couldn't trust. I didn't like how he made me feel so… vulnerable. His gaze just stabbed me like a knife, making me feel so open and _naked_. It was unsettling, but not incredibly horrible. I'd be lying to myself if I said I wasn't attracted to him. Oh, I _was_ attracted to him. Very much so. But I hardly know him—and I'm not one to jump into anything without knowing someone first.

So why did I balk at his request of being friends with me?

I decide to leave that question on the back burner. Such a heavy thought—I'll get back to it later.

Nick was a nice kid. _Very_ nice. He's someone I can see myself getting to know. And he's a cutie pie too—even though he's too young for me. But I can tell he's going to mature into a ladies' man. As long as he gets a backbone and boosts up his self-esteem, there's no reason why he can't go far with the ladies.

Now… on to another topic.

The biggest topic of them all.

What the _hell_ happened to me in the kitchen? I clench my fists at the memory, remembering how only hours before they were burned and on the brink of blistering from my goddamned stupidity. What the hell had possessed me into not wearing my gloves? I _have_ to wear them so I don't kill people, for Christ's sake! How could I have done something so _stupid?_

I cry out when a sudden pain erupts through my skull; I let out a scream of agony and grip my head tightly in my hands, tears pouring out of my eyes. _What the fuck is happenin'? _I inwardly cry. Oh, the pain… it's so intense. It hurts. It feels like I'm being burned from the inside—it hurts so much. And then I hear a loud boom in my ears, like thunder rolling through the sky. The crescendo gets louder, heavier, and I can't help but clamp my hands over my ears in a vain effort to drown out the sound.

Just as I feel like I'm about to pass out from the misery of this internal assault, the pain starts to subside and the booming noises start to become more distinct… more pronounced. _It's a voice, _I realize. My eyes open wide in shock. _Is this really happenin'? _

I have no choice but to find out; I _need_ to find out. The blinding pain is receding, reducing itself into a dull ache, and the voice starts to become clearer without each passing second. Finally, I can make out the words:

_**Don't you remember why? **_

I bolt upright in my bed, my forehead suddenly breaking out in sweat. "Who the fuck is that?" I hiss.

_**Oh Rogue, **_the voice chuckles darkly, _**you know who I am.**_

__I clench my teeth together and fight to keep my temper in check. "You better not be who I think you are," I whisper in a deadly warning.

_**I'm EXACTLY who you think I am, Rogue.**_

__"How? How the _hell_ is this possible?"

_**Don't you remember? Don't you remember what Professor X had you do to me?**_

___He linked us._

_**Yes, **_I can practically _feel_ her nodding her head in approval. _**He linked us together, and he brought us together. That's what we are now, Rogue. We're together.**_

__"But why aren't ya dead?" I ask. "Why didn't ya die when Jean was killed?"

_**Because I am The Phoenix. I can't die, Rogue. I'll never die.**_

__"So… what?" I retort, my voice rising higher with anger bubbling up inside of me. "Ya can keep goin' and livin' for forever? Even after I die, ya can just jump to another person and live off them? Like some kinda fuckin' parasite?"

She sighs. _**No. That is not how I was brought into this world.**_

___Wow, _I take in a deep breath. I wasn't expecting that. Not at all. But that seems like another topic to discuss later—much later. Right now, I want to know what happened today in the kitchen.

So I ask her.

_**I have always been with you, Rogue. Ever since that time in the laboratory, I've been with you. We imprinted together when our mutations encountered one another's. You always carried my power within you, but I could not be released from Jean until she passed. She could not harbor my power—she was too weak. Too afraid. But you… you are different. And when she died at Alkali Lake, I had risen and already knew who my new host was. I knew it was you.**_

__"And you used your power to heal me?" my voice shakes as I ask.

Just one word in response this time: _**Yes.**_

__"Why? Why did you heal me? Aren't you… aren't you supposed to be destroying me?"

_**You misunderstand. I am not a monster, Rogue. I am a power. I do not have a mind of my own. I can, however, form feelings and thoughts based off of the person I'm connected with, and hope that whomever I am with can adapt to my power just as I can adapt to their personality. Like I said before, Jean was weak. She could not handle the gift I gave her. **_

"So why did you heal me?"

_**Because you are my master now, Rogue. That is what I must do. I WANTED to heal you. You and I, we are now the same. We are One. We can never be separated. **_

__"Is that supposed to bring me comfort, or somethin'? 'Cause let me tell ya, sugah, that thought scares the leavin' shit outta me."

The Phoenix laughs. _**I can see why you are reluctant. I don't blame you. But I promise you, that I don't wish you harm. As long as you can accept my power and utilize it for a greater good, I promise nothing bad will happen to you.**_

__"Greater good? Wait… you… you're a _good_ power?" That floors me. How could The Phoenix be considered _good? _Jean—one of the strongest Mutants to ever live—went bat-shit crazy because of it! And she did some terrible things… and even said it _made_ her do terrible things. _Oh Jesus Christ, I'm so confused._

_**I know you're confused—that is why I'm trying to get you to understand. But for now, I will leave you alone. I will always be here, so whenever you feel like asking something, don't hesitate to do so. I will answer. I will help. **_

__"I don't think I like this, Phoenix. I sure as hell don't like that ya can read my mind, and be in my thoughts, and I don't like that ya can always be around. It's like havin' my very own personal stalker."

The Phoenix laughs again. _**I will do anything to gain your trust. Anything you ask. **_

__"There is _nothing _you could give me that I'd want!" I scream, jumping off my bed in anguish. "Do you hear me? There is _NOTHING_ I would _ever_ want from you!"

_**Oh… but there is.**_

__"No, there isn't!"

_**I can name two things right now, Rogue.**_

__"Yeah, I want ya outta my mind and I want my foot up ya ass."

Unfazed, the Phoenix continues on. _**How about control of your mutation—and The Wolverine?**_

"What… what?" I gasp, my hand grasping my heart in surprise. "What did ya say?"

_**I can teach you to do things, Rogue. I can teach you how to do MANY things. You can gain control of your mutation. You can learn not to kill. You can experience how it feels to touch another's skin, and have someone touch you. And if you can do that, who would stop you from being with The Wolverine again?**_

__"But he's not here…"

Tears start to slip down my cheeks as an image of Logan comes to mind. _Oh Logan…_ A sob escapes me and I sink down to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest and hugging them close to me, wanting so much to keep the sudden heartache from tearing me to pieces. Because… Oh God, I miss him so much. So, so much. I have barely thought of him since returning—because it's just so hard—and more than anything, I want him back. I just want to see his face…one more time. I just want to know how it'd feel to hold his hand without killing him, to run my fingers through his hair, to feel his lips on mine…

I blink the tears away and wipe my cheeks. "Can ya really teach me to do it?" I whisper.

_**Yes. I can teach you to do that, among many other things.**_

__"When?" I sniff. "When can ya show me how?"

_**Tomorrow. You're exhausted, Rogue, and something like this requires your full strength—both mental and physical. If I were to try this now, we could wind up hurting you. I don't want that. I don't want to hurt you.**_

__"I believe ya."

And I do. I really, really do. I believe The Phoenix. There's something in me—maybe it's her, or maybe it's my actual intuition—that tells me I can trust her. I _feel_ she's telling me the truth.

So I agree. Tomorrow. We'll do this tomorrow. She'll lead me on the road to recovery, and I will soon lead myself on the road to Logan. To finding the man I love, and hopefully—this time—he'll want me.

That night, I go to sleep with a mission on my mind and a smile on my face.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

So what did you guys think? Please let me know! And thank you very much to: tx peppa for being my FIRST reviewer! That means a lot, so thank you so much!

Stay tuned for the next chapter… it will be brought to you shortly!


	4. Chapter 4

IMPRINTED

_An Untold X-Men Saga_

_After the disaster of Alkali Lake and the death of Jean Grey—the world's most powerful mutant—comes a dawning of a new era that the X-Men always feared. The Brotherhood has finally arisen, alliances have shifted, and there is no one to protect the world from the clutches of the sinister Brotherhood leader, Magneto. People will die, slavery will ensue, and the enemies will reign supreme over the planet—unless, someone decides to stop them._

_ Rogue returns to the X-Mansion harboring a terrible secret. She is not the girl everyone used to know—and she's the kind of girl that doesn't want anyone to know her. For the secret she carries is so deadly, so dangerous, that anyone who finds out about it may wind up dead—or worse._

_ But that doesn't stop her from falling in love. Again. And it doesn't stop her from reconnecting with her first love—though, it should. For even Logan—the Wolverine—can't protect Rogue from Magneto this time. And Magneto truly isn't who Logan should be concerned about. Because, after all, Rogue has a secret, and that secret makes her a danger to none other than her own self._

Rated Mature for smut, violence, language, drug use, and other adult pleasantries.

I DO NOT OWN _X-Men, _Rogue, Wolverine, Cyclops, or the other characters that belong in this work of fiction except for the ones I have created on my own. The plot, the lemons, and the dialogue rightfully belong to me, however I do not profit from this work in any type of way financially. I am merely doing it for the love of writing, and for the entertainment of my readers. The fine men of Marvel Comics own the majority of this fic—I'm just merely playing with the pieces they've given me. Please enjoy!

I WAKE UP IN a daze, almost unsure of my surroundings. I blink the haze out of my eyes and attempt to sit up—but a harsh pain in my head leaves me gasping for air and I slump back against the pillow. Defeated, I close my eyes and try to gather myself. _Breathe in, breathe out, _I repeat this mantra over and over until the disorientation starts to disappear. As the cloud dissipates, I begin to recall everything that happened last night.

_I spoke to the Phoenix._

This time when I sit up in bed, only a slight twinge of discomfort pings through my brain, but I'm able to ignore it. I'm more concerned with my sudden realization; I spoke with the Phoenix, and she shared some personal and… _interesting_ things with me. I recall a few key elements to our conversation, causing the hair on the back of my neck quiver in uncertainty. How is it possible that she is a "good" entity, can help me with my mutation—get Logan back—and be inside me every second of the day, for every day of my life? The last thought is what chills me the most—that she's always here. Always watching, seeing, and _knowing_ what I do. _Is she here now? Does she know what's going through my mind? Will she… _appear?

I don't want to deal with this shit right now.

I reach toward the Ziploc bag of weed on my nightstand and take out the appropriate amount to fit in another joint. The process calms me down some, giving me something to do, and I hope that the herb will help ease my mind—instead of knocking me on my ass. Just as I finish rolling the joint and I'm about to light it up, I feel a familiar stirring inside my mind.

_She's here._

The thought barely leaves my mind when she speaks.

_**Put it away, Rogue.**_

__"What?" I bark at her, irritated that she's starting to tell me what to do. "Why? What's the harm in enjoyin' a small wake n' bake? My head's killin' me."

_**I said to put it away, Rogue. Marijuana will cloud your senses and it'll hinder you from the training I'm going to put you through today. You need to have a clear mind while I help you; do you understand?**_

__"No," I scoff at her. "Not at all. I need to _relax, _Phoenix. Knowin' that ya always in mind doesn't exactly put me at ease, ya know."

_**I can show you how to put a barrier between us. Because one is not in place yet, I am able to access all your thoughts and all your wishes and desires. I do not mean to—we are newly linked, and you don't know how to shield yourself from me yet. I will show you these things in due time, Rogue, but first you must get rid of your substance dependency. I cannot help you if you don't.**_

__I roll my eyes at her bossiness. Just who the hell does she think she is? And if I recall correctly, she said that _I _was _her_ master—not the other way around. If that's the way it's gonna be, then I better take control now. "I want ya to help, Phoenix," I tell her in an even voice, "but I know my mind and I know my emotions, and I know that I _need_ to smoke in order to keep everythin' in-check. Ya say ya powerful, right? So deal with it. Get used to it. But don't ya dare tell me what to do, ya hear?"

To my surprise, she chuckles. _**Very well, Rogue. **_

"Good," I nod. "Now, let me enjoy this and we'll get started on what we have to do."

She doesn't say anything in response, and I take that as compliance. _Good,_ I repeat to myself. I bring the joint back up to my lips and light it, fully intent on starting my day off right. Who really, can deny that a wake n' bake is the perfect way to do that?

XxXxX

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, I emerge from my room feeling like I'm walking on sunshine. My lips are curled in a goofy smile, my eyes probably have that dreamy, far-off look in them, and I feel like I'm practically glowing from the inside out. The shit Warren grows is primo—that's for damn sure—and I hope I run into him so I can thank him properly for it.

This time when I encounter the other mutants, I nod in acknowledgement to them and ignore the looks of shock and curiosity on their faces as I make my way toward the kitchen. I can tell they're wondering why I'm in such a good mood, and probably all think I'm nuts, but I'm too high to care. To punctuate my good mood, I whistle a song from _Gone With the Wind_ and swing my hips along to the words. _Here's to not givin' a fuck,_ I smile to myself.

I reach the kitchen and I'm surprised to see some faces from the X-Men team in there: Storm, Professor Cyclops, and Kitty Pryde are all seated around the counter. They're conversing in hushed tones and bent over what looks like a journal, but all conversation comes to a halt when they see me standing in the doorway. As all three pairs of eyes take me in, I suddenly become self-conscious. I've obviously walked in on something important—and it's a something that they don't want me to know about.

_But KITTY PRYDE_ _gets to be here?_ I inwardly scream. _Whatever. Better get out of here quick before I wind up hittin' her._

"Ugh… hai everyone," I say anyway, pasting a fake smile on my face. "Sorry if I'm intrudin' on y'all. I just came down to get somethin' to eat. I'll be out of the way in a few minutes."

Professor Cyclops opens his mouth to say something when Storm cuts him off. "Oh, that's alright, Rogue," she smiles. "We were actually just finishing up, and I wanted to come up to check on you, anyway."

"Oh," I reply, floored by her comment. "Well… here I am!" I announce stupidly, spreading my arms out in a "hi, I'm here!" gesture. _I'm such an idiot sometimes._

Storm just smiles though, but it looks wrong on her face. I realize that the smile doesn't reach her eyes—eyes that are distant, _searching._ I'm wondering what she's looking for, but I don't give her the opportunity to find it. I just look back at her with a neutral face, waiting for her to ask whatever she's going to ask me. After a few more uncomfortable seconds of her staring into my eyes, she nods to herself—that makes me raise an eyebrow—and asks, "How's everything been since you've returned?"

"Uhh… good," I shrug. "Can't really complain. There's a bunch of new faces here and the foods changed a bit, but other than that everythin's okay."

"Why don't you sit down, Rogue?" Professor Cyclops interjects, and pulls out the stool next to him.

Feeling as though I'm walking into an interrogation, I hold up one finger to indicate I need a minute, and turn away to raid the fridge for something to drink. But while I look for a suitable beverage, I silently call up The Phoenix.

_Are ya there? _I ask her.

The answer is immediate. _**Yes. I'm here.**_

___Look, _I tell her, my thoughts growing more panicked, _I need ya help. Storm, Cyclops, and that bitch Kitty are all here and I think they know somethin's up with me. _

_**They probably do, **_The Phoenix snarls. Her tone is just as irritated sounding as mine. _**Don't worry—we'll get through this. Just let me lead you. You can say whatever you like, but I'll take care of everything else.**_

___Ya ain't gonna hurt 'em, right? _

_**No, **_she says in reassurance. _**I won't hurt any of them. Just stay calm and let me help. Trust me, Rogue.**_

___Okay, _I acquiesce. I then take a deep breath, pull out a small bottle of orange juice, and prepare myself for anything they ask me. Putting on another phony smile, I take the seat next to Professor Cyclops and take a small sip of OJ. "So, what's up?"

Storm and Professor Cyclops take a few seconds to respond—I guess because they want to choose their words carefully or something—but Kitty however, has no trouble finding the words she wants to say.

"Are you high right now?" she narrows her eyes at me.

I shoot her an annoyed glance, flip my dark hair over my shoulder, and respond with, "So what if I _am_ high right now? It ain't any of ya goddamned business, Kitty."

"What the hell is your problem with me?" she yells, her face flushing with anger. "Ever since you came back—and even _before_ you left—you've been nothing but distant and cold towards me, and I'm sick of you—"

"Kitty," Professor Cyclops pipes up, his tone rising over hers, "now isn't the time for you and Rogue to discuss this; we need to focus on the _real_ issues here."

Kitty sputters and looks at Professor Cyclops in disbelief. "Wait a minute—are you _serious? _She just practically jumped down my throat for no reason, and all I did was ask her a question!"

"Correction," I hiss at her, "ya put ya nose in business that ya don't belong in and what ya did to me… if ya really haven't an idea about that then ya really need to back the fuck off _right now."_

_**Rogue, **_The Phoenix suddenly whispers to me, her tone cautious, _**please calm down. **_

___I can't! _I scream at her. _This bitch has no fuckin' idea how badly I wanna take off my gloves and drain the life outta her and right now I just wanna let her know HOW badly I'd like to do that…_

_**Later, **_The Phoenix whispers, making the word sound like a silky promise. _**But right now, we need to figure out why they want to talk to you. **_

___Ya right, _I relent. _I guess I'll let ya take it from here._

It feels like she nods inside my head.

I look at Kitty and say, "There's a lotta things I wanna say to ya, but right now ain't the time. If ya really don't know what it's about then I'll be more than happy to tell ya, but right now I'd like to know what's goin' on here."

Storm looks at me and gives me a small, appreciative smile. "That's very mature of you, Rogue. And you're right; we _do_ need to discuss something." She then closes her warm brown eyes and runs a hand through her silver hair. I'm guessing this is a calming gesture for her, and she needs it for what she's about to lay on me.

I bite my lip and wait patiently for her to continue. But when she opens her eyes, I see the familiar white shining through—her emotions are affecting the hold on her mutation—and that starts to scare the shit out of me.

The Phoenix however, merely waits patiently.

I decide to follow her lead.

Storm looks at me, inhales a shaky breath, and says, "We have something… _unconventional_ to bring up to you, Rogue."

"Unconventional?" I repeat, not liking the sudden chill that word brought down my spine. "What do ya mean?"

"Professor X was the most powerful mutant who ever lived," Professor Cyclops says. "Without him, the war with the Brotherhood may cause the end of the X-Men. He was one of the only mutants strong enough to ever fight Magneto… but without him… we're doomed."

I nod mutely at his explanation, but I don't understand where he's going with this. My counterpart, however, seems to have an idea, and before I can filter what she says I blurt out, "And ya want to bring him back."

All three of them sit back in their seats, absolutely floored by my statement.

Feeling no control over The Phoenix now, I continue. "Ya found a way to bring him back, didn't ya? And y'all also know that he's not the only mutant that can take on Magneto—y'all think I can, too."

"Even though you don't like me," Kitty tells me, averting her eyes from my gaze, "I heard what happened to you at Liberty Island."

"Yeah… and?" I ask her, tucking a piece of my white hair behind my ears. "What's that night gotta to do with me takin' on Magneto? Y'all think _I'm_ powerful enough to fight him?"

"Not just that," Storm whispers, and reaches a hand towards mine. She takes it in hers and gives it a soft squeeze. "We think you might be able to help us bring back Professor X."

"_**What?"**_ The Phoenix and I screech in unison. I rip my hand from Storm's and leap up from the stool. "Are y'all fuckin' _insane? _Y'all can't be serious! Ya think _I _can resurrect a _dead man?" _That crazy notion makes me laugh. "Y'all fuckin' nuts. There ain't a mutant alive that can bring back the dead."

"But you went to get the cure, and it didn't work," Professor Cyclops objects, getting up from his stool also. He puts his face near mine and says, "That proves you're different from us, Rogue. You're stronger—different. You… you may have evolved your mutation better than you think possible. Can't you also take a mutant's powers and memories when you drain them?"

"The fuck if I know!" I hiss at him. "The only thing I know is I can't touch a person without killin' them, Professor. And what Magneto wanted me for was just that—to _kill. _And as for the cure—it probably didn't work because I got a placebo shot, but who the hell knows?!"

_**You need to get out of here, Rogue, **_The Phoenix warns, her tone sounding ominous. _**Cyclops saw what happened yesterday—right here in this kitchen. He may have told Storm and Kitty what really happened…**_

My eyes widen in surprise at that; he probably _did_ tell them! That's why they called me in here, that's why they want to ask me about my fucking mutation, and _that's _why they want to send me on some wild goose chase to bring back Professor X from the grave! Never in my life have I felt such a strong urge to drain a person enough to knock them out before—but right now I'm really thinking about it.

I have never, _ever_ felt so betrayed. So… unsafe.

"I ain't helpin' y'all with this," I growl at them. "This is disgustin'. Y'all wanna try to bring back a corpse though? Fine by me. But y'all best keep me outta it. I want no part in somethin' so unholy."

Ignoring the shock and hurt on their faces, I turn around and start to march out of the kitchen, fuming. Mama would _die_ if she heard this blasphemy! Even though I was never really crazy about going to church, I do however, believe in Jesus and I believe that only _He_ has the power of resurrection. What these people—who I thought were actually pretty sane and logical up until this point—are suggesting is so disgusting.

I feel a stirring in my mind, like a nod, and it seems as though The Phoenix agrees.

I get to the doorway, but stop when I come face-to-face with the _last_ person I wanted to see: Bobby.

The Ice-Fucker.

I can't help my sudden reaction: I narrow my eyes and let a sharp growl escape my throat. "Get out of my fuckin' way."

Bobby jumps back as if I've burned him, making me smile. He looks so shocked and so _afraid_ to see me right now, and that makes the grin on my face turn into the likes of a Cheshire. He takes a step back from me and gulps. I can practically hear his pulse thud erratically in his neck. "Rogue," he says my name like he'd say _Satan. _"What are you doing?"

"Leavin', ya got a problem with that, sugah?" I cross my arms over my chest and skewer him with my eyes.

He takes another step back and shakes his head. "Um… I'll leave you alone then—"

"She's not going to help us, Bobby!"

I whip around at Kitty's outburst, my fury growing as she tears herself off the stool and launches herself in his chest. _This bitch is really tryin' my motherfuckin' patience. _

"We asked her to help!" Kitty continues to wail. "We asked her to help with Professor X and she _won't!"_

"'Cause it's fuckin' crazy talk!" I scream. "And y'all can't make me do somethin' that I sure as hell don't wanna do—_especially_ when it goes against my religious beliefs!"

"Rogue, we can explain!" Professor Cyclops declares as he makes his way over toward us. "We can—really. Just please, _please_ calm down and let Ororo and I walk you through this. What we're doing—it's not wrong. Please just listen to us."

I stalk right up to him and stick my face as near as I can get his—even though he's about a foot taller than me. But I don't care. I'm standing my ground and I'm sticking to it. "Y'all can't say a damn thing to me that'll make me wanna participate in somethin' that sounds like a Satanic ritual. And y'all also want _me_ to fight Magneto?" I laugh without humor and shake my head at their shared audacity. "How _dare_ y'all to put this on my shoulders! First, I come in here and y'all give me some grief 'bout me smokin' some herb, and _then_ y'all want me to help resurrect Professor X _and_ fight Magneto all in the same breath? Y'all are fuckin' ridiculous!"

"What's the matter, Rogue?" Bobby hisses at me. "Aren't you part of the X-Men? Didn't you care about Professor X—and all he's done for you? And what about Magneto—huh? Don't you want to help get rid of the Brotherhood once and for all?! To save _humanity?!"_

"Don't ya motherfuckin' d_are_ stand here and start preachin' to me 'bout what sounds like 'right and wrong' to me, sugah," I threaten him in a low, ugly voice. "Ya sonofabitch! First of all, y'all the _last asshole_ who should be sayin' _ANYTHIN'_ 'bout decency and virtues 'cause _YOU _FUCKIN' _CHEATED ON ME!"_

"Oh shit," Professor Cyclops mutters from behind me.

Storm gasps and I see her clutch a hand to her throat out of my peripheral.

Bobby loses all color in his face.

Kitty stops her pathetic shaking/sniffling bullshit and steps from Bobby's embrace with a murderous look on her face. "You… fucking… _what?"_

Bobby looks at her tries to make his lips form words, but nothing comes out of his mouth except for a few pathetic squeaks.

And then, Kitty does something that makes me kinda like her. She whips her hand all the way behind her back and slaps Bobby so hard across the face he staggers into the wall behind him. Her face is as red as a ripe strawberry and her chest is heaving like she's just run a marathon. The Phoenix and I take in her expression with glee. We decide to stand here for a few minutes to see what happens. We know it'll be worth it.

"You… _fucking ASSHOLE!" _she screams. She then turns to me and says, "Is _that_ why you don't like me? Do you think I knew that you and Bobby were together and I _stole_ him from you?"

"Ya really mean to tell me that ya didn't know 'bout me and him?" I reply, making sure my voice doesn't give away how shocked I am by her reaction.

She shakes her head furiously. "No! I thought Bobby was single because of how he acted towards me! I would _never_ do that to someone, Rogue!"

_**She's lying, **_The Phoenix growls. _**She knew what she was doing the whole time. She saw you and Bobby together, Rogue. She knew he was taken. **_

___I remember the looks she'd give him when she thought I wasn't lookin, _I reply, my fists clenched in rage. _I remember them ice-skatin. I remember him sneakin' off to see her. I remember she'd always try to get him alone…_

"I didn't know!" Kitty wails, her eyes filling up with tears. "I'm so sorry! Please believe me, Rogue! I'd _never_ do that to someone!"

_I can't believe this bitch would lie to my face! _I seethe, my fists tightening even more. I realize I need to get out of here—like right now. The Phoenix is getting just as angry as I am—if not more so—and I'm afraid of what will happen to her if I don't reign in my temper. The Phoenix is not one to fuck with, and neither am I. Who knows the damage the two of us could cause to this pathetic little bitch right now?

"I need to get outta here," I say to no one in particular. "I… I really need to think."

"What about Professor X?" Professor Cyclops cries. "Won't you help us, Rogue? Please. _Please._ We'll explain everything to you so you'll understand!"

"No," I reply, my voice hard and firm. "I will _not_ listen to anythin' more right now. I need to think, and I need to get the hell outta here before I hurt one of y'all."

I move to step around Bobby's pathetic form that's slumped against the wall. But before I safely make my escape, he grabs hold of my shirt sleeve and stops me in my tracks. I don't hesitate to rip one of my gloves off and raise my hand dangerously close to his. "Get your hand the fuck off me," I tell him heatedly. My eyes however, project more than just a warning to him.

"What if it was Wolverine?" he snarls through clenched teeth. "You'd help if it was _Wolverine _who was dead—wouldn't you?"

_The fuckin' nerve! _Now I don't hesitate; I pull my hand back and slap him across the same cheek that Kitty did—bare skin and all.

And that one little slap is enough for me to knock Bobby unconscious.

But I'm left with an injury that goes far beyond passing out… _I know one of his secrets._

He and Kitty… did _exactly_ what they did on purpose.

And she knew everything. The whole time.

I _really_ need to leave.

So without another glance at any of them, I slip away as chaos erupts between the three of them. Kitty starts to cry again while Cyclops and Storm move to help Bobby up. Storm starts fretting about medical attention while Cyclops mutters something like, "He fuckin' deserved it," under his breath, but I don't stick around to get clarification on that.

Once again, I find myself running away from the kitchen for the second day in a row.

XxXxX

I DON'T KNOW HOW where my feet are taking me, but wherever I'm going better be somewhere I can hit something.

And then, all of a sudden, I look up and see that I've arrived at the Danger Room.

"Did ya take me here?" I ask Phoenix.

_**Yes.**_

__"Why?"

_**To begin your training, Rogue. I thought that was obvious.**_

__"Goddamnit, I don't want to train right now!" I yell. "I want to smash somethin' to bits! I want to make somethin' bleed! Hell, I just want to inflict harm on someone—anythin'! 'Cause the last thing I wanna do is _control myself_ right now!"

"Who're you talkin' to?"

I jump when I hear the voice from behind me. I wasn't expecting anyone to be around here; the Danger Room is reserved for only the mutants that are on the X-Team. It's off-limits to everyone else—especially students. I arch a curious brow at Warren, wondering what the hell he's doing in a place he's not supposed to be in.

"Did ya follow me?" I ask him instead.

At least the asshole has the decency to blush and look away, proving my assumption to be true. "I did," he whispers, "because I was heading towards the kitchen for a snack, and I heard some yelling. Then I see you run out of the kitchen looking like someone just murdered your mother, and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," I spit at him. "Now please, leave me alone. I have to go hit somethin' before I flip out."

"That bad, huh?" he smirks.

I roll my eyes in annoyance. "Ya have _no _idea, sugah."

"Why not smoke a bit of weed? It'll take the edge off."

"Funny ya should say that, hunny. I actually w_as_ high when everythin' went down and I _still_ managed to lose my cool. There's some things marijuana can't mellow ya out from, ya know? Now if ya'd please leave me alone, I'd like to try to gain some of my sanity back."

I turn my back on him and press my hand on the touchscreen where a doorknob should go. Automatically, the face of Danger appears on the screen. I take in her robotic features and eerie neon blue eyes in appreciation; I missed this bitch.

"Welcome, Rogue." She greets me. "I have not seen you in quite some time."

"I know, it has been a bit hasn't it, sugah?" I smile sweetly at her.

"I see some things have changed," she responds with an impish grin.

_**Danger knows, **_Phoenix whispers to me suddenly. _**She knows about us. But don't worry; she won't say anything. **_

___WHAT? How the FUCK can ya be sure of that?!_

_**Danger and I have a history together, **_Phoenix explains in a matter-of-fact tone. _**And she'd know me no matter what form I'd be in. She also respects me, and I can tell she carries that sentiment about you as well. Don't fret, Rogue—just act natural.**_

___Oh…kay…_

I paste a sugary-sweet smile on my face and reply with a light laugh.

Danger smiles back—wickedly. "Will you be requesting the use of my Room?"

"Please?" I ask. I know I don't exactly _have_ to ask, but it's polite to do so. After all, now that Phoenix has let it slip that she's aware of our bond, I want to make sure I keep all angles covered here. Allowing my secret to slip out wouldn't be a good idea—_especially_ after what happened in the kitchen.

Danger simply nods. "Place your hand on the screen again. I must access you."

I take off my glove and place it back on the screen, allowing her to scan my mutation. It takes only a few minutes before her face reappears with that wicked smile back on her face.

"Mutant: Rogue. Age: 18. Level: Gamma. Mutant Species: Human. Mutation: Skin-to-skin Absorption. Skills: None. Body height: 5'8". Body weight: 110 lbs. Eyes green. Hair brown, with white scars. Beginning Course 1 Training today, November 12th, 2013. Please ask your partner to do the same."

I sigh and take my hand off the screen, quickly slipping it back in my glove, and motion for Warren to step up. "Go ahead, sugah," I roll my eyes.

He smirks at me and occupies the spot I was just in. When he places his hand on the screen, I listen hard to hear his pedigree information. I'm intrigued to know more about him.

"Welcome back, Warren," Danger greets him. "Not enough training today?"

I arch my brow at that. _So… he really is an X-Man. Hmm…_

"You know I can't stay away from you for too long, Danger Baby," he coos to her. I gag behind him, causing him to smirk. "Besides, I think I'm gonna show Rogue a thing or two about how to fight in hand-to-hand combat today."

Danger chuckles. "Very well. Mutant: Warren. Age: 20. Level: Beta. Mutant Species: Human. Mutation: Angel. Skills: Flight, enhanced strength, healing powers, hand-to-hand combatant, aerial hand-to-hand combatant. Body height: 6'0". Body weight: 150 lbs. Eyes: Blue. Hair: Blonde. Resuming Course 6 Training today, November 12th 2013. Please step back from the door."

_Wow, _I gape at Warren. So he's twenty years old and he's a Beta level mutant? And he can fight in the air and heal people? _Damn. _

The sound of air compressing hisses through, and the heavy door then slides open to reveal the inside of the Danger Room. I follow Warren inside, noticing the fine changes that Danger made to this section of the Mansion. It still retains its freaky sci-fi portal appearance, with the eerie blue bulb that matches Danger's eyes, but also has holographic screens covering the high walls, while the lower walls have panels with buttons, knobs, and levers on them to reveal what I'm guessing are compartments for weapons of all different kinds.

Suddenly, one of the holo screens flickers to life, presenting an image of Danger in all her horrific glory. The suddenness of her arrival makes me jump in surprise, and Warren smirks.

"Welcome Mutants," she greets us. "Are you ready to begin your training?"

Warren and I tell her we are.

"Today Warren, you will be joining Rogue in Course 1's hand-to-hand combat portion. I will leave the training to you. If you need me, I will be here to provide assistance."

"Thanks baby," he winks at her.

Danger smiles that cat-ate-the-canary grin again and the image of her winks out of focus.

Deciding not to waste any time, I turn to Warren. "So, ya wanna train me, doll?"

"If you can handle it," he shrugs.

I throw back my head and laugh. "Oh sugah, it'd be best for ya not to get on my bad side. I'm already madder than a hornet that had its nest kicked. Don't make me worse."

"Well let's see what you got, Miss Zero Skills."

"Don't let Danger fool ya, hunny," I wink. "I've just been outta the game for a while."

"Let's see what you got then," he moves into a fighting stance.

I copy him and stand on my right leg, with my left balanced on the ball of my foot. I raise my hands palms open, and give him the Morpheus invitation to "hit me, if you can." I wasn't lying when I said I picked up on a few things while being away—after the cure failing, I decided to enhance my fighting skills by joining an MMA gym in Mississippi. Though my fellow fighters thought it was strange that I only fought with gloves on, I wound up surprising them all with moves I secretly practiced from being at the X-Mansion—as well as fighting styles I sometimes watched Logan perform. Just thinking of Logan made my heart start thudding like crazy again—as well as the hurtful remark Bobby made earlier.

Thinking of Bobby just makes my blood boil. More than anything, I want Warren to make his move so I can get this fight started already.

As if reading my thoughts, Warren takes me by surprise by throwing a hook punch with his left hand. I manage to dodge it, but the next punch he throws catches me off-guard. He drives a solid punch with his right hand straight at my face, missing my cheek by an inch. To ward him away from me, I pick up my front—right—foot and stick him in the chest with a hard sidekick.

To my satisfaction, it connects solidly with his pectorals, driving him a foot away from me.

_Let the games begin._

I don't hesitate to turn around and propel myself in a flying three-sixty wheel kick, managing to clip him with both feet in the face. I then propel myself the opposite way, and land a flying spin-kick in his face once again. Warren grunts in pain and falls hard on his ass, gazing up at me in wonder.

I smirk at him. "Told ya not to underestimate me, hunny."

"That was good," he admits as he rubs his red face. "I'll give you that, but now I'm not gonna hold back."

"Oh, ya were holdin' back huh?" I taunt him. "Well, how ya know I wasn't?"

That seems to piss him off a bit—just as I intended. He picks himself up and launches himself at me, throwing a series of jabs and hooks. I manage to block them all and come back with my own hits—matching him blow for blow. When I turn my back to bring my fists down in a double hammer strike, Warren anticipates that move—already figuring out that spin techniques are my forte—and ducks my hands. He drops to the ground and sweeps my feet out from under me.

This time, I'm the one who lands on my ass.

But I don't pause; no hesitation from this gal. From my place on the ground, I shoot my legs out and catch him by the ankles, promptly taking him down with me. As he jumps to his feet again, I've already jack-knifed to mine, ready to face off in the preparatory stance again.

We circle around each other. He tries to fake me out with feinting one way, then the next, but I continue to dance around him. He lets none of his weaknesses show, giving me no angle to really work with. At this rate, if I try to make any move on him, it'll be anticipated, and I'll most likely lose this sparring match. _Just wait for his patience to run out, _I tell myself, remembering my old instructor's advice. My weakness is impatience, something that was easily picked up on when I first entered the school, and my opponents always played off that. But I've learned to wait, learned to calculate, and gain advantage over my opponent by basically giving them the idea that I can wait forever until they decide to hit me—which can piss someone off beyond belief and cause them to make a foolish mistake. I'm hoping in this case, Warren does that.

But just as he tries to feint to the left, I surprise him with a roundhouse kick to his abdomen. Catching him off guard, I swing my opposite leg to hit him on the inside of his face, but he catches my leg and twirls me around, effectively throwing me against the floor. The breath leaves my lungs for a second—a second too long—and I'm about to pick myself back up when Warren pounces on top of me.

He grabs my arm in an expert hold, and my joints scream in the sudden distress. My eyes widen at the dull discomfort, but I'm confident that Warren won't do anything to hurt me. He just took me off-guard, but my body doesn't feel as though it should give up. However, I know it's best not to move once I'm in such a precarious hold—not right away anyway—until I can safely get myself out of the hold without possibly breaking a bone or two.

He then smirks at me and applies further pressure to my arm. I know what to do: I use my other hand to spring up, tucking the one he has against my chest, and grab a fistful by his hair. My nails dig into his scalp, hopefully causing him just as much pain as he caused me, and I smile when I realize his hold is loosening on me.

Quick as lightening, I twist my wrist to pry it out of his grip and succeed in slipping my arm free. Launching us both forward, I slam Warren on his back with me on top, straddling him, and place both my hands on his neck in a severe chokehold. He thrashes and bucks his hips in an effort to throw me off, but I don't let up. Gritting my teeth together, I squeeze harder and note the reddening of his face in delight. "Don't make me take my gloves off," I hiss at him.

Warren an only sputter and grunt in response, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets from the pressure. His hands try without success to slap my wrists away, and I keep holding on.

"Do ya take it back now, sugah?" I ask him in a sweet voice. "Do ya take it back 'bout underestimatin' me, or am I gonna have to keep teachin' ya some manners?"

He sucks in a mouthful of air and gasps out a "no."

"Good," I release him at once. "Now, I feel much better."

The Angel then starts inhaling a copious amount of oxygen and rubs his throat. "Jesus… Christ!" he rasps. "You're… fuck. Jesus."

"I'm Jesus?" I giggle at him. "Why, thank ya, sugah. Though I appreciate that, I can't really say I'm Jesus. Only one Lord and Savior, sugah, and this girl ain't it."

He surprises me by smiling. "I meant to say… that you're incredible."

"Why thanks," I blush at his compliment. "And so is Jesus, ya know, but hey, I'll definitely take credit for that endearment."

"You should," he whispers, his voice still sounding a bit raw. "That seriously was some good fighting. Not many people can best me in combat."

"MMA is a pretty good style to learn. If ya wanna learn a few moves, I'll definitely go for another round with ya."

"Nah, I'll take a rain check on the ass-whooping."

I let out a laugh as I ease myself off him. Once my footing is gained, I hold a hand out to help him up. He takes my hand and I pull him to his feet—but damn he's heavy! Not expecting him to be so damn bulky, I trip over my feet and fall face-first into his chest.

_Oh, Lord have mercy… This is so embarrassin'._

I snap my gaze to Warren's bemused eyes and instantly feel the blush color my cheeks. "Oh my, I'm so sorry! I'm so damn clumsy sometimes."

"Not complaining," he shrugs, looking intently at me.

I swallow nervously as I gaze back at him, so entranced by the sky blue of his beautiful eyes. Like the time in his room, the air is suddenly gone, making it so hard to breathe, and the room feels like the temperature went up ten degrees. My knees start to shake with the intensity of this moment; it's been so long since I've felt this way. And I wish so much that I could touch him. Kiss him. Wish I could know how it'd feel to have his skin on mine, his lips touching me in places a man has never touched me before—and the sudden temptations of those desires hits me with a cold truth that completely ruins the magic of this moment.

_**One day, Rogue, **_Phoenix whispers to me.

I nearly jump at her sudden presence in my head, but manage to keep myself under control. _One day what?_

_**One day you will be able to touch. You will be able to have something normal again. I promise to help you, Rogue.**_

__I don't want to think about that right now. As much as the thought of Warren touching me would please me, there's only one man I would want to touch me. Only one… and he's not here.

_I can't think of this right now._

Thankfully, the image of Danger appears back on the holo screen—perfect timing.

"Training complete, Warren?"

The Angel blinks his eyes as if awaking from a dream and calls out a "yes" to Danger.

"Good," her monotone voice replies. "Hand-to-hand combat of Course 1 for Mutant Rogue completed. However Rogue, you must return to complete the rest of the course if you would like to advance to the second level of hand-to-hand combat."

"Noted sugah," I reply. "Thank ya for lettin' us play in your Room."

"Of course. You may exit now."

The doors hiss open again, and without a moment's hesitation, I step out of Warren's grasp and make my way out of the Danger Room. I hear him follow behind me, but I don't want to look back. What happened between us will never happen again, and I don't want to give him the impression that I will. Besides, he's just my weed dealer. If he wants to be friends—fine—but I meant it when I said I wasn't going to date him. After what happened with Bobby, along with the facts that I still am in love with Logan and I can't have a _normal _relationship with someone, I have no interests in dating. Absolutely no interests whatsoever.

But… a girl does still fantasize. And she will when that's all she's got left.

"Rogue," Warren suddenly calls out to me.

I take a deep breath and shut my eyes, expecting this to happen. But still, I turn around and force a small smile on my face anyway. "Yes, Warren?"

He nervously runs a hand through his hair and looks down at the floor. "About… about what happened in there—"

"Oh—that," I cut him off, laughing slightly. "That was my fault. I'm really startin' to think I have two left feet. Would explain why I'm such a klutz at times."

Warren looks up at the floor and levels his eyes with mine, looking at me as if he's searching for something. Knowing what he's hoping to find in my gaze, I keep my face neutral and hope that he gets the hint that what just occurred between us is not going to happen again.

After a few seconds of us just standing there, awkwardly looking at each other, Warren nods and says, "You fight really well. I wasn't kidding when I said that."

"Thanks," I tell him again. "We should keep sparrin' each other. Ya ain't a bad figher yaself, Angel. Besides," I add, wanting him to understand that I just want to keep our relationship on the platonic level, "I think we can be friends. And I'd like to be ya friend, Warren—but just that."

Hurt flashes in his eyes for a brief moment, but is quickly replaced by his warm smile. He just nods again. "I'd like that."

"Good," I tell him happily. "I would, too."

XxXxX

AFTER WARREN AND I part ways, I decide to head up to my room—completely done for the day. As much as I'd like to go to the kitchen for a bottle of water, I don't want to chance running into anyone there. Storm and Cyclops I could probably handle, but Kitty and Bobby? Hell no. Honestly though, I don't think I'd want to see _any_ of those assholes. I'm still in disbelief over the facts that they want to resurrect a dead man _and_ use me in the fight against Magneto. The nerves and lack of sanity of these people really fucking astounds me. To think I once looked up to them…

Opening my bedroom door, I sigh in relief that I remember I still have almost a full eighth left to smoke. Just as I flick on the light though, sudden movement causes me to jump like a frightened cat and lower myself into a fighting stance.

"Who the hell is there?" I growl to the room. "Ya best come out if ya value ya goddamned life!"

Stepping from the adjoining doorway of my bathroom to my bedroom is Professor Cyclops.

_What the hell?_ I internally screech. _What the fuck is he doin' in my bedroom? Ain't there rules or somethin' against this?!_

_**Stay calm, **_Phoenix whispers. _**Don't get angry. Stay calm.**_

__"What the hell are you doin' in here, Professor?" I hiss at him, choosing to ignore Phoenix. "Who the hell said it's alright for ya to come into my bedroom?!"

Professor Cyclops ignores my outburst and steps forward, determination in his red-tinted eyes. "We need to talk, Rogue."

"Yeah, we need to talk 'bout ya lack of manners!" I fire at him.

He ignores me again and sinks down on my bed. "We need to talk about you helping us with Professor X."

_This asshole! _"What the _fuck _makes y'all think I'm really gonna help y'all do somethin' as wrong as necromancin' a long-ago dead man? Didn't y'all hear me when I said no? Don't y'all even know what the fuckin' word means? It means, _I REFUSE!"_

Professor Cyclops just sighs and reaches into his pocket.

I back up in alarm. "What the hell are ya doin'?!"

He ignores me and pulls out a book. Looking closely at it, I recognize it as the book they had on the counter earlier. He then looks up at me, and through his red sunglasses, I can see his hard expression. "This is a journal," he states. "A journal that belonged to Professor X."

"So?"

"So," he sighs, "Storm found it after Jean was killed at Alkali Lake. She showed it to me after she thoroughly read its contents. Not only is there information about how you may be useful in killing Magneto, but there's also a blueprint Professor X started. He… even when alive, Professor Xavier was trying to find ways to restore himself in a new body—with the use of Cerebro."

_"What?" _I gasp in astonishment. "Ya mean to tell me that… _Professor X_ actually _wants_ y'all to do this?"

He nods. "Yes. He does."

The shock of this turn of events is so overwhelming. My brain starts to swim in confusion as the lights around me get too bright, the air too thin, and the temperature increases like it did in the Danger Room—only this time, not in a good way.

The last thing I recall is Professor Cyclops's horrified gasp as I collapse on the floor.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Sooooo…. What do you think?! Rogue seems to be getting a little busy, now. First her and Phoenix start to get on good terms, then the kitchen scene with the Professor X/Magneto/Bobby and Kitty fiasco, then the spark-age between her and Warren in the Danger Room… and now THAT juicy little morsel about Professor Xavier wanting to be resurrected? Oh me, oh my. If I were Rogue, I'd faint too.

And for the next chapter, I'll be giving y'all something I know y'all are waiting for. That's right, honeys. I think y'all know what I mean. Tune in for Chapter 5 if y'all wanna find out! Much love. XoXo!


	5. Chapter 5

IMPRINTED

_An Untold X-Men Saga_

_After the disaster of Alkali Lake and the death of Jean Grey—the world's most powerful mutant—comes a dawning of a new era that the X-Men always feared. The Brotherhood has finally arisen, alliances have shifted, and there is no one to protect the world from the clutches of the sinister Brotherhood leader, Magneto. People will die, slavery will ensue, and the enemies will reign supreme over the planet—unless, someone decides to stop them._

_ Rogue returns to the X-Mansion harboring a terrible secret. She is not the girl everyone used to know—and she's the kind of girl that doesn't want anyone to know her. For the secret she carries is so deadly, so dangerous, that anyone who finds out about it may wind up dead—or worse._

_ But that doesn't stop her from falling in love. Again. And it doesn't stop her from reconnecting with her first love—though, it should. For even Logan—the Wolverine—can't protect Rogue from Magneto this time. And Magneto truly isn't who Logan should be concerned about. Because, after all, Rogue has a secret, and that secret makes her a danger to none other than her own self._

Rated Mature for smut, violence, language, drug use, and other adult pleasantries.

I DO NOT OWN _X-Men, _Rogue, Wolverine, Cyclops, or the other characters that belong in this work of fiction except for the ones I have created on my own. The plot, the lemons, and the dialogue rightfully belong to me, however I do not profit from this work in any type of way financially. I am merely doing it for the love of writing, and for the entertainment of my readers. The fine men of Marvel Comics own the majority of this fic—I'm just merely playing with the pieces they've given me. Please enjoy!

_I DON'T KNOW WHERE I am, how I've gotten here, or whether or not I'm alive, but somehow I feel as though I'm caught in a dream. A dream that isn't really a dream—perhaps this is an Out of Body Experience? I'm not sure. But all I can actually comprehend at the moment is _him.

_This must be a dream. Or, I must be dead. For how else would I be able to see the love of my life right now?_

_ There he is, sitting all alone in an unknown bar, swinging back another shot of bourbon and taking unhealthy drags of his Cuban cigar. He just sits there, staring at nothing but everything at the same time, looking so lost and alone. I long to reach out and touch him; more than anything, I want to brush his too-long hair from his face, to sit next to him, to even hold his hand in my gloved one. But when I attempt to walk toward him, I wind up gliding instead of using my legs. Jumping in panic, I look down at my feet and realize I'm almost transparent—nearly invisible._

Then this must mean I'm dead…

XxXxX

THE SMELL OF SALT assaults my nostrils. Instantly, my eyes snap open and I jerk upright in surprise—hitting my face up against someone's knuckles.

"Ughhhhhh," I groan, letting my head fall back down.

"Rogue," someone says—maybe it's the same person?—and lightly touches my face. "Rogue, open your eyes."

I want to, but my lids feel too heavy to open right now. I just grunt in response, hoping that's enough for whomever it is to know I'm coming back to consciousness.

The person sighs. Something cold is then pressed to my forehead. I let out a contented breath, realizing it's a cold washcloth, and try to move my hand toward it so I can hold it in place. But my hand doesn't move fast enough for my liking. I drop it uselessly back on what feels like the floor. The person chuckles this time, and that pisses me off.

The irritation however, evaporates into gratification when I feel their hand press the cool cloth further onto my head.

"Thanks," I whisper, my voice coming out groggy and hoarse.

"You're welcome," they say, as gently as possible.

I lay like that for a few seconds, concentrating on breathing, and everything slowly comes back into focus. Suddenly, I remember what happened before I fainted. I remember Professor Cyclops telling me about Professor X's journal, how Professor theorized I could help in the fight of Magneto, and—the most disturbing part—how he figured out of way of restoring himself into another body. The last thought is what really jars me back into awareness. But to make sure I don't cause more shock to my brain, I flutter my eyes open and blink a few times against the light of the room before allowing them to fully take in my surroundings.

That's when I realize Professor Cyclops is the one who's hovering over me.

Rage fills me again, and I can feel my features narrowing in contempt at his proximity to me. After what he just said—_and the fact that he was even in my bedroom to begin with!_—he's really damn lucky I'm too weak to kick his ass right now. Even luckier over the fact that the Phoenix hasn't said anything about wanting to beat his ass—yet.

Speaking of my alter-ego, where _is _she?

_Phoenix? _I call to her. That feels weird—I'm not used to calling to her yet—but what's even weirder is the sudden fear of her not being in my mind. _Phoenix? _I call again. _Are ya there?_

_**I'm here, **_she assures me. _**I'd never leave you.**_

___Good, _I surprise myself when I say that. Probably surprising her as well, but I realize I mean it when I say I'm relieved she hasn't left. That nothing happened to her as a result of my fainting episode. She probably wouldn't leave because I fainted but the paranoia of another person walking out of my life is too strong to ignore. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I'd be devastated if I were to wake up one morning and have her not be here.

Professor Cyclops's hand on mine interrupts me from my internal reverie with my counterpart though. I want to snap at him, but the look of worry on his face keeps me from doing so. I manage to move my hand out of his and scoot away from him. The washcloth starts to slide down my face, but I manage to grab it in time. I close my eyes again, wanting to avoid Professor Cyclops now until the end of the century.

"Rogue?" he says anyway—obviously not getting the hint. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I just smacked my head on the floor."

He laughs. The sound is so annoying. _Who the fuck does he think he is?_ "You must be feeling better to be mouthing off like that."

"Yeah, but not good enough to give ya the ass-whoopin' ya so deserve," I fire at him. "Where the hell do ya get off? Comin' into my room and talkin' to me 'bout resurrectin' Professor Xavier—after I told y'all I wasn't gonna have a part in it? Ain't y'all got any decency when it comes to respectin' a person's wishes?"

Professor Cyclops sighs again and I hear him shift so he's sitting down next to me. I open my eyes to see him leaning against the wall next to my closed door. He looks apologetic at my words—and even a bit embarrassed—and that pleases me greatly. _As ya should, asshole._

He scrapes a hand down the side of his face and sighs again. "Rogue," he starts. "You're right. You're absolutely right. I had no right to sneak into your room like this and try to badger you about what we talked about in the kitchen." He pauses in his apology to blow out a breath of exasperation. "But," he continues, "I just wanted your help. That's all. If you could bring back Professor Xavier… you just don't know what that'd mean for the X-Men against the Brotherhood. We'd have a fighting chance. We'd be able to save humanity…"

He trails off and stares off into the space before him.

Phoenix then stirs inside my head and whimpers at his apology. _**There's another reason why he'd want you to help him.**_

___Huh? _I ask her. _What do ya…? OH._

_ Of course! Why didn't I think of it before?_

"If I were to bring back the Professor, ya'd think I'd be able to bring back Jean too. Don't ya?"

Professor Cyclops doesn't even bother to look at me. He just nods his head before his shoulders slump inward—defeated.

I can't help but feel bad for the man.

"Professor," I reach a hand out toward him, using my other one to set the washcloth on the floor. "Jean's dead, Professor. Ya can't… ya can't bring her back—just like ya can't bring back the Professor. It's impossible to do, and not to mention wrong. It defies nature and God, Professor Cyclops. Ya… ya have to let her go."

"I can't," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. He wipes a hand across his cheek. It's only then I realize he's crying. "I can't let her go, Rogue. She… she was the love of my life. The only person I've ever loved. And it's just so hard for me to let her go. I still think she's here. Even right now. It's like… a part of her is here with me in this very room."

My spine prickles at his last statement and Phoenix shudders in response. Out of nowhere, I feel a sensation in my chest similar to when I once saw Logan look at Jean the way I wished he'd look at me. Then, it felt like my heart was cracking into a hundred little pieces. Felt like a pane of glass with a rock lodged into the surface. Splintered, shattered. And at this very moment, I can feel that same sensation all over again. But for some reason, it doesn't feel like it's just _my_ heart that's breaking.

I think its Phoenix's.

Her pain though, feels just like mine. My body is responding to exactly what she's feeling. And I can't help but succumb to this grief. She and I… we're not so different. It's then I realize that maybe Phoenix loved Scott Summers as well. Loved him for how gentle, caring, and so giving he was to Jean. For how much he tried to get Jean to understand herself—to love herself. How unfair it must've been for her host to die, only to be brought back into a girl who has her own heartache to deal with as well. _Oh Phoenix, _I silently cry to her. _I understand sugah. I understand all too well how ya feel. Now ya know how I feel 'bout Logan…_

She doesn't say anything. She just continues to weep silently inside of me. I can't help but feel tears well up in my own eyes as well. As much as I wish I could comfort her, I know I can't. So I opt for comforting the other who's hurting—hoping Phoenix will appreciate the small gesture.

Carefully, as if I'm afraid to startle a wild animal, I sit up, scoot next to Professor Cyclops, and take his hand in mine. "I'm so sorry, Scott," I whisper to him.

He turns his head to look at me, where I see tracks upon tracks of tears falling from under his red sunglasses. With a choked sob, new ones start to fall, and he surprises me by grabbing me by the collar of my shirt and pulling me into his arms. His head falls onto my clothed shoulder—thankfully not in any contact with my skin—and starts to cry uncontrollably.

I clutch him tightly to me, trying so hard to soothe his pain but knowing I can't. I'm in no position to soothe _anything. _So I join him. I cry tears for The Phoenix. I cry for Professor Cyclops. I cry for Logan. For Professor X. I even cry for what Bobby and Kitty did to me. Everything I've tried so hard to ignore hits me all over again like a Septa train. The dam inside has burst. The floodgates of emotions flows without relent, without mercy. I hold onto Professor Cyclops tightly, as if I'm afraid to let him go. And he returns my intensity as well, sharing the pool of grief with me. Trying so hard to swim against its strong current just as I am, so we hold onto each other without relent. Too afraid that if we do let go, one—or both of us—will drown.

We stay like this. For who knows long, neither of us know. But time no longer has a purpose right now. Time holds no importance. How can it? Has time healed me from the horror of what I did to Cody—watching Logan walk away—being betrayed by Bobby—the disappointment of the cure being ineffective? No. Time does nothing. And as far as I'm concerned, time will continue to do nothing. So whoever came up with that saying, _"Time heals all," _was nothing but an insipid, mindless optimist that obviously didn't deal with my level of agony—or Professor Cyclops's agony, for that matter.

There's nothing left for us to do but hold each other. Because right now, it feels like we're all the other has left.

XxXxX

**WOLVERINE'S POV**

"WANT ANOTHER ONE, SUGAR?"

He jerks his head up in surprise at that comment—but it's not really the comment that bothers him. It's that word—the endearment. Only one other woman has ever called him that. In fact, _she_ was the _only one_ that he ever allowed to call him "sugar." Suddenly, he can't help but miss her. Miss her sassy, southern drawl. Miss how her "er" sounds always came out as "ah." Miss the way the white streaks looked against the rest of her dark locks…

_Stop getting carried away with yourself, _his subconscious inwardly scolds him. _Just tell this bitch you don't want anything else and send her on her fucking way._

He looks back at the bartender and starts to tell her just that when he notices how attractive she is. _Attractive, _he scoffs. Not really. Her face is alright. Pale skin with blue eyes—but a mouth that's too small. _Wouldn't fit around my cock—that's for damn sure._ And her hair is too blonde. _Probably from a bleach job. _But what really has him wanting a little more time with her is the size of her chest. Her tits are the kind that would hit her in the face with how hard he'd fuck her. _Perfect, _he concludes. She's just the kinda girl a man like him wants for a good one night stand.

"What's your name again?" he asks her, making sure his voice sounds deep and husky. He knows women can't resist it when he talks like that.

Predictably, the bartender's eyes flutter in a sudden flirtatious manner and she tucks a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm Mandy," she tells him in a breathy voice.

"Mandy," he says her name, tasting it. Not a pleasant taste, but she'll do—for tonight at least. "Care to sit down?"

Her face instantly flushes in embarrassment and her eyes dart over to where he guesses her boss is watching her from behind the bar. Mandy then looks back at him with an apology in her eyes and shakes her head. "Oh I'm sorry, I can't. My boss—Antonio—he doesn't like it when I sit down with customers while I'm still working."

"That's too bad," he sighs, already bored with her. But he knows she'll be back, so he tells her, "I was hoping I could know more about you than just your name."

Mandy smiles at the suggestion in his voice and swipes her tongue across her lips. "I get off in two hours… if you'd like to wait 'till then?"

"Sure," he shrugs. "I'll see you in two hours."

She instantly brightens at his promise. "Okay, cool!" She then turns to tend to her other customers when he calls her back.

"Oh Mandy?"

"Yes?" she saunters back over to him.

"Get me a few more shots while you're up," he commands, pointing to the empty shot glasses on the table. "I'm getting a little thirsty here."

He almost expects her to scoff at his pompous, chauvinistic comment, but instead she just nods her head and takes the empty glasses away without so much as a grimace in his direction. In fact, she even smiles and gives him a flirty wink before going over to the bar and refilling his order. Not a minute goes by and she's already back with his bourbon. He just nods his thanks—no smile, no wink—and downs a shot while she stalks off to her place behind the bar, pouting slightly.

But he doesn't give a fuck.

He's never given a fuck about a woman.

Yet in his heart—the organ he likes to pretend he doesn't have—he knows that's untrue. Once upon a time, this coldhearted beast of a man _did _care for someone before. Truth be told, he actually cared about _two_ someone's. Both of them different as night and day, but both of them represented the worst kind of cliché.

The first was the one he could never have.

The other was the one he refused to have.

He closes his eyes as he drinks his second shot and reaches for his still-lit cigar. As he puffs on his fine Cuban, his mind goes back to those two women. Memories of them both flood his senses, making him feel as though he's traveling back in time instead of currently sitting in this dingy pub in the Toronto suburbs. His thoughts are first of her—the one he could never have: Jean Grey.

The woman he thought he loved more than his own life. The woman he would've given up his life for—if only he didn't have to be the one to take _hers _in the end. Jean was beautiful. Pale skin, dark eyes, and dark red hair that was as soft as silk and blazed like the depths of Hell. She was the most intelligent women he ever met. Kind, soft spoken, and she was so patient. She was a doctor by trade, but also a telekinetic by mutation. He loved her for her gentle nature—and even loved her when the monster inside of her broke loose and took over her mind. Unlike the other mutants on the X-Team—including her pussy-whipped, spineless One-Eyed freak of a partner—he had faith in Jean's ability to overcome the demon inside of her. He believed her strong enough to overcome anything and everything. She was… a special woman—a strong woman. And he loved her so much for being that way.

But she, however, did not love him.

He realized she didn't _love_ him. She was attracted to him for the same reason every other woman was attracted to him. He was dangerous, unsafe, an asshole through and through. He was the physical embodiment of all the wrong reasons of why women fall for men. He just was the "bad boy" they all secretly pined over and wanted to change. But Jean… she didn't want to change him. She just wanted to _taste_ him. She just wanted to be seduced by him. Just like all the others. _No,_ his subconscious utters, _not just like—_exactly like_—all the others. _

He just shakes his head and takes another shot. Then the other. Only two shots left—but he'll need them later. Because thoughts of the other woman—the one he refused to have—suddenly fills his head, causing all thoughts of Jean to disappear.

_My little Rogue, _he laments, suddenly missing her. _My Marie._

He remembers the first time he ever saw her.

She was so small and meek as she begged him for a ride. She was running away, and though he didn't care about her problems in the slightest, he couldn't help but eventually give in. Besides the fact that she was young, vulnerable, and pretty little thing, she was also stubborn and had a temper on her that he couldn't help but admire. After finding out she was a mutant like him, he made sure he'd take her to the school he heard so much about—the Academy for "Gifted Youngsters" as the sign on the front of the X-Mansion read. There was something about little Rogue that he couldn't help but feel drawn to. Even though she was two years shy of the legal age for him to fuck—he couldn't help but _feel_ something strong for her. And it was more than just a desire to bed her. He felt _protective_ of her. He felt in some way that he… _owned_ her. And in a way, he did. He could see the truth of it in her eyes: she'd look at him like he was a savior. Like he was her dream come true—her happily ever-after. But she was so young… and she was so impressionable. He couldn't pervert her innocence. So he tried to keep a distance. He felt like he _had_ to keep a distance. For both her sake—and his.

Little Rogue, however, was too stubborn for that. The night she crept into his room and surprised him with her sudden appearance caused him to unleash his claws from their hidden pockets between his knuckles and stab her right through her chest. Her eyes bulged, her heart probably stopped, but the stubborn little girl fought for her survival. She touched him with her bare skin—skin that was of the softest of velvet, he remembers—and started to drain the life right out of him. It was the most painful and _erotic_ experience of his life. How could a little girl like her inflict such emotions in a scorned man like him? How could _she_ be the bearer of such a burden like him and be able to _use it against him_ without the tiniest hint of fear? And how could those brief moments of her draining his very life-force leave more of a mark on him then the first time he ever locked eyes with Dr. Jean Grey?

He definitely stayed away from her then. There was no other option. He couldn't ever allow himself to be alone with her after that. He was too afraid of what would happen if he ever was.

But then the night of Liberty Island happened—and that changed everything for him.

Just recalling on the image of her slumped over the steeple of the skyscraper with her hands tied and the front of her hair discolored into freakish white streaks makes him want to go into a fit of rage against that crazy fucker, Magneto. Never before had he felt so afraid of losing someone; she just wouldn't wake up, refused to respond. The fight in her that he loved so much was gone.

He however, had enough fight for both of them to survive that night.

And maybe a little selfishness as well.

He knew as soon as he touched her skin that she'd start to absorb his life. But he was The Wolverine—he could heal. And of course, so could his Rogue, but not without his help. So he helped her. Saved her. And when she took that revitalizing gasp of air, he almost stole the breath right out of her again. He wanted to kiss—to mate her. He wanted to yell at her and shake her and make her swear she'd never leave his side again. And then he'd fuck her. Hard. Fuck her like he knows she's never been fucked before. Fuck her into submission. Fuck her into sub ordinance. Just… fuck her.

But what made him hesitate? Two things:

Her skin would kill him.

She'd let him. She'd let him take her. Over, and over, and over again. And that was not something he could allow himself to do.

So he left. But stuck around long enough to say goodbye to her. Give her the "dog tags" as a token of his unrequited love. It was the only piece of him he could give to her.

For many nights after the tragedy at Alkali Lake, he dreamt of Jean. Dreamt of driving his claws through her heart over and over and over again. And then the dream would turn into her, as the Phoenix, taunting him into stabbing her. Saying she _liked it. _He'd wake up shaking and in a cold sweat—swearing that Jean was still alive. But he knew she wasn't… he killed her himself. But then why did the dream change? What could have happened? Could the Phoenix inside her have arisen? Taken over her body again? Brought her… back to life?

He'd spend hours after each dream wondering that. And then at night when the dream occurred again, he thought for sure that's what it was. That Phoenix came back. She brought Jean back to life and she wanted to enact her revenge on The Wolverine for killing her.

But that was before the dreams stopped being of Jean, and instead turned into Rogue.

"You ready to go?"

Her annoying voice broke him out of his haze. Ripped from his memories and his inner turmoil, he snapped his gaze toward the blonde bartender's, and suddenly remembered where the hell he was and what the hell he was about to do. He just nodded at her, downed the rest of his drinks, slapped the appropriate amount of money on the table with a meager tip, and asked her to lead the way.

He didn't really care about fucking her anymore but decided she'd be a good enough distraction to his life. And if not, then he'd prowl the streets again in search of another female to satisfy his needs. He was, after all, The Wolverine, and there wasn't a woman on the planet who could resist him.

XxXxX

**ROGUE'S POV**

WHEN OUR BREATHING FINALLY returns to normal from its shallow, ragged state, and the tears sound like they're no longer flowing, Professor Cyclops lifts his head from my shoulder and thanks me for the comfort I just provided him.

"No need to thank me," I tell him gently. "I needed it, too."

"I need a _drink_," he laughs, falling back against the wall. "Too bad I drank all that vodka. And I don't feel like raiding the liquor cabinet in the Professors' lounge again."

"I may have a little somethin' for ya," I suggest with a small smile.

He throws me a curious look. "What's that?"

In answer, I walk over to my nightstand and hold up my Ziploc bag that's full of sunshine and rainbows. "Wanna toke?"

Professor Cyclops throws back his head and laughs. "I haven't smoked a bone in ten years. But sure—fuck it. Why the hell not?"

"Takin' a walk on the wild side are we?" I smirk at him.

He laughs and gets up from his spot against the wall, sinking down into my mattress. "I just don't give a fuck about much right now."

"Heard that, sugah," I nod at him.

I take out enough weed for two joints—one for me and one for Cyclops—and start to crumble the bud between my fingers when the realization of what I'm about to do causes me to giggle like a schoolgirl. _I'm 'bout to get high with one of my professors! _

"What's so funny?" Professor Cyclops inquires.

"Oh… nothin' really," I say, but I don't stop laughing.

"Has to be something," he muses, leaning closer toward me.

"Nope," I shake my head. "Nothin' at all, Professor."

I know he doesn't believe me, and the way he's looking at me proves that, but he just shakes his head and mutters "whatever" to me. The smile doesn't leave my face at that; he sounds like a sulky teenager—like me—and for some reason, that makes me warm up to him.

When the second joint is rolled, I hand it to him and join him on the bed. Holding mine up like a wineglass, I "clink" it together with his. "Here's to not givin' a fuck!" I declare. I light mine up and inhale deeply, punctuating my toast with a fabulous hit.

"You are _such_ a strange girl," Professor Cyclops mutters, taking the lighter from me.

"Yeah, sugah?" I retort. "Well, let this s_trange girl_ warn ya that the ganj ya 'bout to smoke ain't ya average strand of grass. It packs a mean punch to it, Professor."

He scoffs at my warning. "We'll see about that."

_Ooooh Lawd, _I roll my eyes. _Ya in for a big surprise, sugah._

Just as predicted, when Professor Cyclops inhales his overcompensated hit he starts coughing like he's about to spit up one of his lungs. I laugh at his reaction and he flips me off. I flip him off right back and take my own hit, but still can't help but laugh when he takes another hit and continues to cough right afterwards.

He gulps in some air and rasps out, "Fuck… you… Rogue!"

"Don't ya wish ya could?" I wink at him.

He rolls his eyes, mutters something about "jail bait" and takes another drag. I smile at his comment and reach over to my Ipod for my "Smokin' Like a Hippie" playlist and scroll down until I reach one of my favorite songs I like to get high to.

As soon as the opening chords to "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd starts to play, Professor Cyclops thumps his hand on the mattress and cries out, "I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG!"

Laughing at his sudden outburst, I join him in singing the lyrics, noting how appropriate this song is for the both of us right now.

_Hello,  
Is there anybody in there?  
Just nod if you can hear me  
Is there anyone at home?  
Come on now  
I hear you're feeling down  
I can ease your pain  
And get you on your feet again  
Relax  
I'll need some information first  
Just the basic facts  
Can you show me where it hurts?_

"There is no pain, you are receding!" we both belt out. "A distant ship smoke on the horizon!"

_You are only coming through in waves  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying  
When I was a child I had a fever  
My hands felt just like two balloons  
Now I've got that feeling once again  
I can't explain, you would not understand  
This is not how I am  
I have become comfortably numb_

"Great song, Rogue," Professor Cyclops sighs.

I nod at his words. "It's like… whenever I listen to 'em, I can't help but think that they're talkin' to me, ya know? Especially this song… it's like they know exactly what kinda pain I feel. Like they've been there before."

"They probably have," he replies, and turns to look at me. "Not everyone else can feel how we feel, Rogue. It's kinda scary, ain't it? To know that we're the only ones who may be feelin' like this right now. In this whole fucking mansion, you and I are the only ones who know pain. We're the only ones who know how it feels to lose someone."

I notice how his words are more slang-like. It gives me the impression that he's already feeling high—I know I am. Once again, I gotta remind myself to thank Warren for this herb. It's wonderful. And I'm happy I can share it with Professor Cyclops. But what makes me happier is to know how right he is. In fact, he just echoed my earlier thoughts about time healing everything. It feels like right now, he and I are linked in our emotions. We're one in the same.

We keep on smoking, listening to Pink Floyd, and occasionally making comments about how great their music is and how well it jives with our current situation. Then the conversation turns toward other things: happy times. He tells me about good memories he had of Jean, and I tell him about how I met Logan. It's crazy how painful it should be for us to talk about such things, but instead, we're smiling and joking, just reminiscing on how _good_ the memories make us feel instead of the pain of no longer having them. Because isn't that the point of a memory? To recall on how wonderful it made you feel at the time—instead of pining over its absence? And right now, aren't Professor Cyclops and I making a memory? To me, I'd say we are. Whatever I'm doing for him though—I don't care what he calls it. I'm just happy that I could provide him some comfort. After all he's been through—and myself and Phoenix for that matter—all three of us deserve it.

_**Thank you, Rogue, **_Phoenix whispers to me. _**Thank you for this.**_

I smile at her thanks. _Anytime, sugah. Like ya said, we're one and the same. And if ya hurt, I hurt too. _

She smiles, and then I feel her go back inside of me. She's happy, content. My smile brightens more at that.

And Professor Cyclops is such a chatterbox when he smokes, but I don't mind. I continue to lay back and snuggle close to him—keeping my skin from touching his—as our troubles disappear in a cloud of THC haze and Pink Floyd makes everything else alright in the world.

XxXxX

I WAKE UP THE next morning feeling more rejuvenated and more at ease with life than I've felt in such a long time. I smile as I recall last night's events with Professor Cyclops—and the fact that he's pretty damn cool when he's high. The thought of a baked Scott Summers makes me giggle, and I can't wait to rub that in his face when I see him today. I get up and stretch, going through my yoga, Tai Chi, and light meditation before heading into the shower, humming the words to "Brain Damage" under the steam.

As I get ready that morning, I decide to actually care about my appearance. I brush my hair until it lands in long, straight waves, apply some makeup to enhance my features, slip on some black jeans with a grey long-sleeved shirt, and opt for wearing my Converse instead of the Doc Martins. As always, I slip on my black gloves and—as an afterthought—roll another joint before leaving my room. As I make my way down to the kitchen, I can't help but skip merrily the whole time. _What the hell has gotten into me?_

"Mornin' y'all!" I say in greeting to a group of girls on the stairwell.

They shoot me confused looks but return the greeting anyway—one of them even smiles at my politeness. I smile back at her and keep the smile on my face as I greet everyone else in the same way before heading towards the kitchen.

I reach the doorway the same time Nick starts to walk out. I nearly collide with him head-on—the kid's only as tall as I am—but stop myself from fully hitting him. Wouldn't want to knock the poor kid out with my deadly skin and have yet _another_ mutant to go to the hospital wing because of my annoying handicap.

"Hey Nick!" I smile at him. "What's up, bud?"

Nick's eyes widen and so does his smile when he realizes it's me he nearly ran into. "Rogue! What up, girl?" he raises his hand for me to fist-bump. "I'm just about to go down to the entertainment room to watch a movie with Warren and some of our friends. Wanna come?"

"Sure!" I tell him, returning the fist-bump. "I just wanna grab a snack and somethin' to eat. I'll be a minute, if that's okay?"

"Not a problem," Nick says. "I'll wait for you. So, how've you been? How's the… _stuff_ I gave you?"

"Primo," I tell him with a big smile. "In fact, I got a joint on me. Wanna toke up for the movie?"

"Uhhhh," his eyes suddenly dart around as if he's afraid someone might hear our conversation before lowering his voice into a soft whisper and asking, "won't we get in trouble if we do that?"

"Only if we get caught," I wink at him.

I go to the fridge, grab a few cans of Coke, and then walk over to the pantry where I hope I can find a bag of chips that aren't healthy or as tasty as a slab of cardboard. To my delight, I find a bag of French-onion Sun Chips—borderline healthy, but still pretty damn good.

"Ya want me to grab ya somethin'?" I ask Nick.

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good. I just made myself a sandwich before I ran into you. By the way," he smiles, "you're in an awfully good mood this morning. You should probably slap that Bobby kid in the face and kick Warren's ass in the Danger Room more often."

My eyes widen at the memories of his words, but for some reason, I'm not pissed off that he found out about those two occurrences. Since I'm still on "celebrity status" at the Mansion, everything I do is probably gonna be monitored for a while by the students here, so I just laugh at his remark and tell him what I would _really_ like to do to Bobby next time I run into him.

"Holy shit!" he guffaws at my colorful language. "You're one fucking twisted sister, you know that?"

"I know," I bat my eyes at him. "But y'all love me anyway. Now come on," I slip my arm through his. "Let's go watch this movie. And don't look at me like that!" I chide him when he eyes-up my arm like it's a venomous python. "If my skin is covered, it can't hurt ya. So quit ya gawkin' and let's go have some fun."

"Aye, aye Captain!" Nick salutes me with his other hand.

I shake my head at his geek-ness and together we make our way to the entertainment room to meet his friends. We get a few curious looks from some of the students that we pass when they see us walking arm-in-arm with each other, but Nick and I ignore them all. I smile at some that I recognize but don't stop to chat—but Nick doesn't smile at any of them. In fact, he doesn't even _look_ at anyone. He just keeps his eyes forward and his face even—no eye-contact with anyone.

_The poor kid, _I think to myself. _I wonder if he has a lot of friends… I mean, I know he said we were meetin' people, but Warren is there. Maybe his only friend is Warren? And the kids we're really meetin' are Warren's friends?_

Still though, it's mighty nice of Warren to include Nick in his crowd. Not many guys as good-looking as Warren take kids like Nick under their wing, but the fact that Warren seems to have done that warms my heart. It also makes me want to change my mind about not having friends; Nick can be the exception to that rule.

_And so can Professor Cyclops, _I smile to myself.

Nick and I then reach the entertainment room and as soon as the two of us step through the doorway, all conversation amongst the group of three guys immediately stops. I'm a little taken aback by that, but I refuse to let that show. Instead I paste a sugary smile on my face and wave the hand that's holding the chips and Coke at the guys.

"Hey y'all," I greet them. "I ran into ya good friend, Nick here, and he invited me to watch a movie with ya's. But y'all don't mind if I join, do ya?"

Warren's face breaks out in a bright smile when he sees me, but when his eyes takes in the fact that I'm linked arm-in-arm with Nick, his gaze darkens and his smile falters a little. That sets my teeth on edge; _I knew there was somethin' up with him._

"Hey Rogue," he says, patting the space next to him. "Of course you can join us. We were just about to watch _Pulp Fiction. _Ever see it?"

"Have I?" I scoff at him. "Only about a hundred times. I love Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta in that film!"

I break off from Nick as I make my way over to the guys. Ignoring the way Warren is expecting me to sit next to him though, my eyes sweep over the other two guys that are sitting down. The one next to Warren looks oddly familiar, but I can't say where I've seen him before. He's seems younger than Nick, and he looks almost… _frail. _But he looks like a sweet boy, with a round face, greenish blue eyes, and messy blonde hair. I smile at him, and he returns it—but his looks almost fearful.

"Hai," I tell him in my bright Southern drawl. "I'm Rogue, sugah. What's ya name?"

Maybe it's because my charm really is that irresistible—or he'll respond to someone after they've spoken because he's shy—he smiles a bit bigger and says, "Jimmy."

"Hai Jimmy," I wave at him. "Nice to meet ya."

"Jimmy thinks it's nice to meet you too," he replies, appearing very comfortable now.

I notice how he refers to himself in third-person, and that makes me oddly curious about him. But I don't want to ask; I'm afraid that if I ask about it now I'll make him clam up or something, so I just keep the smile on my face and prepare myself for introductions with the other guy.

And when I turn to face him, my heart literally stops.

Sitting in the lone recliner is the most… I don't even have a word to describe him. _Gorgeous? Beautiful? Charming? Classy? _I shake my head clear of the cobwebs, but can't tear my eyes from his _burning red_ ones.

"Hai," I say, my voice coming out a breathy and light. But, entranced like a moth to a flame, I reach my hand out to shake his. "I'm Rogue."

He smirks at me, his full-lips curling up in what I know is a _"girl, I know I'm hot"_ kind of look, but still brings his hand up to mine. I notice with glee that he has gloves on too—the black fingerless kind. "Nice to meet you, Rogue," he replies, his voice thick with a French/Louisiana accent. "I'm Remy, but I'd prefer if you called me Gambit."

_And I'd prefer if you called me "yours," _I think to myself, licking my lips in appreciation at this yummy hunk of a man.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

So, so, SO! How'd we like that little appearance of Wolverine? Huh, huh, huh? I had SO much fun writing this chapter—even though it's laden with feels. Tons of feels here. I kind of cried during writing a few parts of it—and if you did too then I'm sorry! Lulz I just couldn't help myself. Thoughts on Professor Cyclops and Rogue baking out? How about Wolverine and his inner turmoil? And oh, oh, oh! Yes I did bring in Gambit. Wonder how that's gonna play in? Wink, wink.

By the way, thank you SO MUCH to dhh. Not only for reviewing this, but for also having a cool conversation with me as well. That meant a lot, dhh, so thank you for that (:

Please rate and review! AND THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO IS FAVORITING "IMPRINTED" AND ME! Y'ALL ARE THE BEST! *HEARTS!*


	6. Chapter 6

IMPRINTED

_An Untold X-Men Saga_

Rated Mature for smut, violence, language, drug use, and other adult pleasantries.

I DO NOT OWN _X-Men, _Rogue, Wolverine, Cyclops, or the other characters that belong in this work of fiction except for the ones I have created on my own. The plot, the lemons, and the dialogue rightfully belong to me, however I do not profit from this work in any type of way financially. I am merely doing it for the love of writing, and for the entertainment of my readers. The fine men of Marvel Comics own the majority of this fic—I'm just merely playing with the pieces they've given me. Please enjoy!

_GAMBIT… I TASTE HIS _name on my tongue as his face appears in my mind. Such an irresistible man with his long, messy brown hair that he holds off his forehead with a bandana, red eyes that burn like a summer's bonfire, tan skin, full lips…

_And I can't get over the fact that he wears gloves like me!_

_**Rogue,**_ Phoenix growls in annoyance. _**Stop fantasizing! We need to get you started on your training! You've been putting it off for far too long now.**_

__"Ya sucha buzzkill, ya know that?" I snap at her. "Can ya blame me for thinkin' 'bout the man? DIDN'T YA SEE HIM?! He's finer than fine, sugah. Ya can't deny that one."

_**And YOU can't deny that you've been wasting time when you should be training. We were supposed to begin your training two days ago, Rogue! Don't you WANT to learn how to gain control of yourself?**_

__"Ughhhhh,"I groan. "Yes. Ya know I do. I guess ya right—I _have_ been dilly-dallyin' too much these past few days." With a resound sigh, I sit up from my bed and snuff my joint in the ashtray; it's also my last one before I hit up Warren for more—but the thought of seeing Warren right now makes me cringe. The way he acted earlier… he's lucky I didn't embarrass him with another ass-kicking.

After my star-cross'd introduction with Gambit, Warren practically dragged me over to sit with him on the couch. I was beyond annoyed with that; just who the hell did he think he was, pushing me around like that? I sat next to him without a fuss, though. As much as I would've liked to tell him where I think _he_ should've sat, I kept my mouth shut like a good little girl and took the spot next to him—but also left enough room for Nick to sit down as well. I know that pissed Warren off, but really, what the hell did I care? Sugah better realize I don't take shit from a man—and I was making damn sure he knew that fact upfront. So I just settled myself in, tore open my bag of Sun Chips, and enjoyed some conversation with the five of them.

Before starting the movie, I learned a few things about Warren, Gambit and Jimmy—and even a few things about Nick. Jimmy and Nick were part of a sub-division group affiliated with the X-Men—the Morlocks—but were forced to live underground in the sewers because they didn't have the funds to provide housing for themselves. Professor Xavier found out about them though, and tried to move them into the X-Mansion so they could live safely among other mutants and without the threat of Magneto and the Brotherhood coming after them—but unfortunately was not able to come to Jimmy's rescue.

Warren's father, however, found Jimmy through medical research done in mutants. But what Dr. Worthington Jr. wanted with Jimmy, I don't know. I can tell Jimmy is obviously scarred from his experience in the facility Warren's father imprisoned him in, and it is also the reason why Jimmy is mentally impaired. But if Jimmy lets his third person speech impediment bother him, he hides it pretty well.

After hearing about Jimmy's encounter with the facility, I decide to warm up to them and tell them about what happened to me with getting the cure. Warren intently listens to this—as does Nick—but Gambit merely sits back with bemused interest whereas Jimmy has this look of sweet admiration in his eyes. I tell them the truth: I wanted to get it because I was sick of not being able to touch without harming someone, but when I went to the facility the cure was ineffective. That raised all of their eyebrows as I knew it would, but I didn't care to elaborate more on the subject. So I ended the discussion about me with my hopes of finding a way to control it—and if I do happen to control it, find out how I can use my mutation to its full potential without the consequence of taking someone's life from them.

And then Nick spoke up.

If I thought that Nick was a shy, socially awkward boy before, now I think of him as a scarred soul that drew a very unlikely hand at the poker table like I had. Poor Nick has a mutation so similar to mine: the longer he is around people, the more susceptible he is to finding out things about them that they'd never want to know: their fears. What makes them… _tick_, so to speak. And Nick knows how to use that against them—as well as gain access to their thoughts and phobias. If Nick touches someone skin-to-skin, he'll be able to telepathically read their fear and it leaves a mark inside his mind whenever he's near that person. And if Nick ever wanted to use that as a weapon against someone, he said it'd be simple.

The stronger the link between him and the person, the more likely he can do harm to them. And the way he does it is so horrible, so terrifying, that for once I'm so thankful he'll never be able to touch me with my bare skin.

Nick has the mutation of going inside a person's head while they dream and give them nightmares.

I shudder as I remember that scary little detail about him. But even though his mutation is enough to send every hair on the back of my neck on end, I still can't help but feel a kinship with Nick. It's like he's the little brother I've never had. Our mutations and social lives are so similar and I can tell he's just as thankful for us to have become friends like I am. I'm also thankful to know little Jimmy now—and even more at ease knowing that Nick and Jimmy had each other during their time in the sewers with the Morlock group. After he finished his story, I couldn't help but smile at him in understanding. He returned it with a look of gratification in his eyes, almost as if they were saying, _"Thank you, sis."_

Gambit then joined the conversation and told us very little details about himself—but I swallowed those meager sips of water like a dehydrated woman in the middle of the Sahara. Remy "Gambit" LeBeau told us he was from New Orleans and lived his early childhood years without knowing who his real parents were. He lived with "relatives" and grew up in a world that was "dangerous" before fortunately being adopted by Jean-Luc LeBeau—a powerful man, he told us—and that was all he said. He also threw in that he liked Cajun food, jazz music, and was a master at playing cards, but nothing else about his early life or anything about his mutation. That left me intrigued; I could've listened to his sexy N'Orleans/French accent all day, but of course, Warren had to cut Gambit off with tales of his own childhood.

But not before I made a few mental notes on learning how to cook Cajun chicken, looking up cool jazz artists and brushing up on my card skills.

Warren Worthington III was born in Centerport, New York to a prominent family that gave him the best of everything—including education at Phillips Exeter Academy. It was there at his school that he began to grow his white feathered wings from his shoulder blades and tried hiding his mutation from everyone—afraid that he'd be killed or others would call him a freak. But he liked his ability of flying, he told us, and wanted to know if he could use his power to help people. One day he got his chance to do just that: there was a fire in his dormitory and Warren knew he had to save his friends from the disaster—but didn't want to get caught—so he "borrowed" some props from the drama department and dressed himself up like a Biblical angel before going to rescue his friends that were trapped in the room. He didn't want anyone to know it was him, he said.

But somehow, word had gotten out that the "Avenging Angel" was rumored to be him, and the rumor outraged his father. Wanting to make sure that Warren wasn't one of those "mutant freaks," Dr. Worthington Jr. performed an experiment on Warren to see whether or not he carried the "freak gene." After discovering that Warren was in fact, a mutant, Warren then realized that he was special and had a true purpose in life. He wanted to help people and did not want to become "normal" like everyone else. "Because _normal people_ are the freaks," he said to us. So when his father locked him up in his laboratory and tried forcing Warren to be the first mutant to be "cured" Warren used all of his strength to break out of his bonds and then spread his wings in all their full glory. After smiling at his father in a _"look at me now" _way, he broke through the window of his father's lab and took flight for the first time in the open. "There was nothing in my life that could've topped that moment," he told us. "Soaring through the sky in broad daylight without a mask or a costume—it was like heaven. It really felt in that moment, that I was one of God's creatures."

"But ov coarse ve are one ov God'z creaturez," Gambit replied, his voice making me swoon. "Iv ve vere not, 'ow culd ve be on zis planet? God doez not allow miztakez, and ve are anyving but miztakez."

"We're chosen," Nick smiled at Gambit. "We're meant to be different. We're meant to do something great, aren't we?"

"Jimmy always learned that," Jimmy whispered softly. "Jimmy was always told that mutants are special, and that we shouldn't be ashamed of who we are. Jimmy thinks that one day the world will need our help and when that day happens, we shouldn't deny our special powers to the world."

"You're right, Jimmy," I brightened at him. "We shouldn't. Now," I smirk at everyone, "how about we watch a movie about a couple of crazy humans that could've _totally_ used our assistance?"

"Heard that!" Nick declared, pumping his fist in the air.

The other guys agreed, and we all settled in to watch the American classic, _Pulp Fiction. _Normally, I'd be so engrossed in the movie that a bomb could've went off in the room next to me and I would've had no idea—but Warren's constant touching and trying to pull me closer toward him was irking my nerves so much that I couldn't pay attention to one of my favorite parts in the movie: the part where Samuel L. Jackson and John Travolta are sent to the apartment by their "boss" to retrieve a little token from the boys that the boys tried fucking Mr. Wallace out of. Usually I'd be dying at the sight of Samuel L. Jackson stealing Brad's "Kahuna burger" and relishing over how delicious it is, but the sight of food and Warren's close proximity made my stomach feel like it was doing somersaults and back handsprings and whatever the fuck else kind of gymnastic bullshit a stomach shouldn't be doing. I couldn't stand sitting there long after that, so I told the guys I had to bail. Nick and Jimmy—and even _Gambit_—looked put out by my sudden departure, but I promised them I'd see them later. Warren, however, looked downright murderous.

Just thinking of the way his eyes turned cold makes me shiver—even though I'm all the way upstairs in my room, snuggled in the soft blankets of my bed. Still, I can't help but put on a hoodie and splash my face with warm water before making my way down to the Danger Room.

_Ya sure Danger can help me? _I ask Phoenix as I descend another level of stairs.

She nods. _**Danger is a very smart mutant. Though her Mutant Level is unknown—mostly due to her being unable to be assessed by other mutants—it is still obvious that she harbors more powers than she lets on. I have no doubt in her ability to assist me in helping you control your absorption power.**_

I brighten at the certainty in her voice, and I hope she's right. More than anything, I want to be able to touch someone again. I just want to know how it'd feel to hold hands or snuggle—forget the big stuff like kissing and sex. Just knowing that I can gain control makes me feel more normal than how the cure could've made me feel. I reach the Danger Room and this time, I don't jump when Danger's face comes across the screen.

"Welcome back, Rogue," she greets.

"Hai sugah," I smile. "How's ya day goin'?"

Danger sighs dramatically. "Lonely. Your friend Warren did not come to visit me today. Did you scare him away?"

I chuckle at her sly grin. "I think I did, Dangah. Poor man just couldn't handle me in combat."

Danger laughs at my jest. "Will you be continuing Course 1 today?"

"Actually…" I quickly look around to make sure I'm alone, but still can't help dropping my voice into a low whisper, "I'm workin' on… a _special_ project."

"I see," her neon-blue eyes flash wickedly. "Would this _special project_ have anything to do with your _other_ friend?"

I just nod, still cautious of my surroundings.

Danger appears satisfied at that and then asks me to place my hand on her screen. I take off my glove and allow her to read my new results. I'm dying to know what level of hand-to-hand combat I'm on. After going through my basic information, her voice turns syrupy-sweet when she says, "Skills: Advanced Level Hand-to-Hand combatant."

_What?! _I squeal. _Did ya hear that, Phoenix? Dangah said I'm advanced!_

_**But remember: you still have to do the courses, Rogue. They help train you for every—and any—situation with an opponent; Danger ensures that this training will ensure your survival against your enemies.**_

_Bitch, don't kill vibe! I'll do the damned courses—alright? But damn, let a girl enjoy a victory, will ya?_

She laughs at that.

Danger then grants me access into her Room and I step through the threshold, waiting impatiently for the door to close so Phoenix can finally teach me what I'm dying to know. I take my gloves off and place them on the floor beside my feet.

When the door finally closes, Danger's face appears on the holo-screen from across the room. "So, you're here to gain control of your mutation?" she asks, her eyes dancing with glee at the thought.

"Yes ma'am," I tell her. "Phoenix said she can teach me—and that ya can help me too. Can ya help me, sugah?"

"Why Rogue, I thought you'd never ask. I'm flattered you and Phoenix would want my help."

"Aw sugah," I coo at her, "don't be surprised I'd wanna learn from ya. Ya one of the smartest mutants in the whole world—who _else_ would I turn to?"

"If only I could blush, my sweet. Because if I had that ability, you my dear, would sure be able to make me do it without any hindrance."

"Oh shucks, baby. Now ya makin' _me_ blush."

"**Would ya two stop flirtin' already?"**

I let out a scream of surprise and immediately clamp my hand over my mouth when I see the holo-screen next to Danger flare to life. An image starts to come in place of a woman—I can tell it's a woman from the body shape—followed by the fine details and features of her identity. My hand squeezes my lips harder when I see the image on the screen is… me.

But it's not me—not really. Besides the woman having my fair skin and white streaks framing her face, the similarities stop there. The hair that should be brown is also colored with dark auburn, and the eyes that should be green are blazing red like the inside of a volcano. Flames dance in the palms of her bare hands, and wings of fire stretch from behind her shoulder blades. She takes in my shock and smiles knowingly at me, and it's then I realize who that woman is.

It's the Phoenix.

But… she's… me?

"**Hello Rogue," **she says. **"Shocked to see me?"**

Removing my hand from my mouth, I swallow the sharp lump in my throat and take a step forward. "How… how is this possible?" I ask her in awe.

"**Dangah," **she replies, her eyes sliding over to her friend. **"While you and I are in her Room, we are able to communicate like this. I told ya Dangah is powerful, Rogue."**

"Ya sound just like me!" I exclaim, my lips curling in a vain smile. "And… oh my Lawd! Is _that_ how ya look now?" I then cock an eyebrow in confusion and ask her _why _she looks like me.

"**I have taken on ya likeness," **she explains in a patient voice. **"When I communicate with ya inside ya mind, I somehow am still separate from ya. But my dear, ya don't share that same luxury yet. But ya will—in due time. I have begun to imprint with ya, though. When ya first had dreams of me, I was in the form I looked like when I became known in Jean. But now that the bond between ya and I has grown stronger, this is how I will appear to ya from now on. And that includes in dreams. But when I speak to ya outside of this room and dreams, I will revert back to the way ya used to me speakin.'"**

Nodding in understanding, my feet still carry my forward until my neck starts to hurt from craning it up to look at her. I just can't get over how… _amazing_ this is. "Will I evah look like that?" I can't help but ask. Truth be told, I'd _love_ to look like that. Phoenix makes me look… _beautiful. _I know I'm not ugly—in fact, I think I'm rather pretty—but with how Phoenix makes me look… My Lord, she makes me look _otherworldly. _I can't help but feel envious of how gorgeous she is.

"**Ya might," **Phoenix says with a small smile. **"But enough about this; let's get started on ya trainin', sugah." **She winks at me when she uses my own term against me.

"Okay," I laugh. "Let's get started."

"**Dangah darling," **Phoenix looks over at her friend. **"Initiate Phase 2."**

Danger smiles at Phoenix, her blue eyes blazing in what looks like mischief. "I love Phase 2," she breathes.

I have no time to process what the hell "Phase 2" could mean when suddenly, the neon in Danger's eyes grows brightly intense. Just a flash at first, but then it feels as though I'm standing in the middle of a dark road when a truck starts speeding down the road toward me—the lights blue instead of white—and the closer he gets, the harder it gets for me to see. I can't help but hold a hand up to my eyes as the light continues to get brighter, turning my head so my retinas don't burn from this laser-like beacon.

But the light's point ends right beside my feet, causing me to yelp in alarm. I turn my head the other way so I don't get blinded again when I notice that the light has dimmed to a bearable setting and it's also… _creating something._

Frozen in place, I remove the hand from my eyes and watch in astonishment as the laser-beam sketches out the likeness of a person. Drawing it as though it's a grid outline starting at the feet, and as it works its way up, I can't help but wonder who Danger is creating. But as the beam moves to the person's "waist," my throat closes up and my pulse races hard when I see the bottoms of his claws. _It's him! _I gasp. My mouth falls to the floor and my eyes feel as wide as saucers at this new installment. My heart's even fluttering like an erratic hummingbird's wing at this phony image of Logan—and that's when a sense of anger washes over me like a tsunami wave ripping through a Disney cruise ship. _How fuckin' DARE Phoenix and Dangah play this cruel joke on me?! Do they think this is funny, makin' up a hologram image of the man I love and use HIM as my trainin' tool?! Why these fuckin' bitches…_

When the grid outline of Logan is complete, another blinding flash of blue light erupts on his image, and I cover my eyes again. With a sizzle and _pop!_ I can almost _feel_ that image of Logan has completed its formation. Just to make sure my eyes will be spared that blinding light, I peek through the cracks of my hand.

And look right into the hazel eyes of Logan.

"Rogue," he whispers my name like a caress, "come here."

I drop my hands from my face and start to do as he says—wanting nothing more than to close the space between us. But I stop mid-step when I remember my anger at this sick façade. I whip my head to Danger and Phoenix and can't help the sudden fury that erupts out of my mouth. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with y'all?!" I scream at them. "Is this y'all way of tryin' to _help_ me? Y'all just wanna torture me with touchin' a fake version of the man I can't _have?"_

"**Rogue," **Phoenix shakes her head. **"Ya misunderstand what we're doin', Rogue. We're not tryin' to hurt ya feelin's."**

"The hell ya ain't!" I scream at her.

"We are _not_ trying to hurt you, Rogue," Danger echoes Phoenix. Her eyes narrow impatiently at me and she licks her lips as if she's a snake about to eat a mouse. "Didn't the Phoenix tell you that she could help you get control over your mutation _and_ The Wolverine back?"

"You call _this," _I wave my hand between Logan's hologram and me, "getting him _back? _He's not even _real!"_

"**What do ya think would happen if ya were to see the **_**real**_** Wolverine, Rogue?" **Phoenix hisses at me. **"If ya were to gain control over the power of ya mutation—none of it would mattah **_**unless**_** ya managed to control yaself around Wolverine. Ya could get too excited the next time ya see him and—"**

"Who says I _will_ evah see him again?!" I lower my head to the floor, trying to make a poor attempt at hiding the tears in my eyes. "I might nevah see Logan for a very long time… And what y'all are doin' makes sense but… it just feels like torture."

"We know this hurts you, Rogue," Danger tells me sympathetically, but her robotic voice makes her unable to put any emotion behind her words. "But don't think of it that way. Think of Wolverine's image as the best training tool we could provide you. And you never know," she adds with a wicked grin, "he _might_ come back. You know he can't stay away from this place for too long."

"No," I shake my head. "He won't come back. Jean's not here. There's no reason for him to ever return."

"**Whethah or not he returns to the X-Mansion, ya trainin' is all that mattahs, Rogue. Ya NEED this. Don't ya want to learn more 'bout your powers? See what more ya can do? And let's be honest now, sugah…"**

My eyes snap up to Phoenix when I hear her voice drop to a sultry volume.

"…**ya and I both know there's another man ya fancy."**

Flames suddenly heat up my cheeks in memory of Gambit's sexy accent and the way his lips curl when he smirks. That cocky arrogance coupled with his Southern charm… yes. Even though he's nothing compared to Logan, he's still a temptation that's worth getting control over my mutation. _Because to taste him, _I close my eyes at the thought, _would be like tastin' honey right out of the comb._

I barely suppress my shudder of ecstasy.

But both of them still managed to see it—I can tell they did without opening my eyes. Their giggles give them away. Sighing in defeat, I open my eyes and concede to this training. They're logic is infallible, and I would be stupid not to follow it.

Taking a deep breath, I once again lock eyes with Logan's hologram. He smiles at me, his eyes warm and welcoming. With a _shink!_ his claws retract into his knuckles, and he doesn't hesitate to take a step closer towards me.

Forgetting that this is a "training exercise" I close the remaining space between us. I'm too caught up in the moment to comprehend the situation as anything else but _real. _He just looks so real… just like Logan the last time I saw him. Muscles bulging from underneath a white wifebeater, narrow hips covered with camouflage-printed cargo pants, combat boots, his sideburns long and trimmed, and his hair… messy and wild, the ends falling lightly over his greener-than-brown eyes.

I can't help but swoon.

"**Now Rogue,"** Phoenix's voice breaks the trance.

I snap out of the fantasy and look over at her, wondering what she's about to tell me to do.

"**We need to start this off nice and slow," **she instructs. **"But first, I want ya to close ya eyes and **_**feel**_** ya mutation."**

"How?" my eyes widen at her words. "I've… I've nevah done that before. Except…" I trail off, remembering a time not too long ago when I knew _exactly_ what I was doing.

John "Pyro" Allerdyce had unleashed the powers of his pyrokinesis on a group of police officers and SWAT members after Bobby's parents had called the cops on us being in her house. Though John was only fighting back after one of them shot Logan—that memory makes my heart squeeze in agony—he still called forth the fire-beast inside of him and showed those officers _exactly_ how powerful he was. I remember watching him in all his terribly terrific glory, entranced with how he could flick his lighter, ignite his hand like a Molotov cocktail, and throw fireballs the size of rocking chairs at the helpless cops. They didn't stand a chance against him. John was in his element—no pun intended—and not someone to be threatened. But I knew… I knew I had to do something. Because if I didn't stop him, I feared everyone—if not all of us—would have died that day.

Just the thought of _me_ doing something to _save_ instead of _destroy_ made the mutation inside of me come to live. It pulsed and vibrated like lightening beneath my skin, and I knew instinctively what to do.

I merely thought: _absorb, _when I touched my bare hand against John's ankle and suddenly, I was flooded with the rush of John's pyrokinetic power. I could _feel_ my body taking in his flames—and just that. I held on tighter when his mutation started to reignite itself in alarm, and in those few moments it became a power of wills between us. It was a question of, who would let up? But me—being too stubborn and also experienced with absorbing stolen powers—of course won in the end. When the flames started to die, I then switched the power inside of me to: _take._ I only needed a few seconds more before John was knocked out cold from my power stealing some of his life-force when Bobby snapped me out of my power-drunk haze. I may have stopped myself from killing him, but my body didn't stop itself from shaking with the ecstasy of stolen power… and _life._

Recalling on that day, I can't help but question as to whether I was in control…

"**Ya did well that day, Rogue."**

I blink my eyes up at the Phoenix's words, and can't help but feel appreciation for them. "Did I really?"

She nods.**"Yes, ya did. Ya did **_**exactly**_** what ya should've done. And, ya stopped yaself from takin' more of his life than what ya wanted to. Ya can do that again, Rogue."**

Taking a deep breath, I nod at her confidence. Forcing myself to feel as confident as her, I look back at Logan's image and with every cell in my body, I begin to pray that I don't hurt it. I know it's not real, but I want this to work. I want to believe in myself; I _have_ to believe in myself.

Like the time with John, I close my eyes and start to _feel_ the electricity swimming underneath my flesh. I breathe in, and it pulses closer. I breathe out, it pushes itself away. It feels like a shadow that has the capability of moving with me instead of just beside me. Squeezing my eyes tighter, I keep concentrating on my breathing, on the way my mutation moves. With each breath I take and each one I expel, the voltage feels like it's welding itself closer and deeper with me. I can't help but revel in the feel of how wonderful it is.

When it feels like there's no longer a distinction between my mutation and me, I open my eyes and open my eyes again and don't hesitate to reach a hand up to touch the side of Logan's face. But before I make contact, I let my fingertips hover over his skin. I'm terrified of touching him… of breaking that barrier. _What if I fail? What if this doesn't work? What if I kill his hologram?_

"**Have faith," **Phoenix whispers.

"Don't hesitate," Danger says.

Nodding to myself I chant, _I can do this, I can do this, _over and over in my head until I finally get the balls to break the barrier. With just one fingertip, I close the distance and touch Logan's cheek.

For a second, nothing happens. His image just stands there stoically, unaffected by my touch.

But then… everything changes.

Logan's image lets out a bloodcurdling scream as the veins on his face that surround my finger start to bulge against the surface of his flesh—looking like freaky little black worms. The current of my mutation suddenly fuses our skin together and I cry out in horror as I watch the hologram of the man I love slowly start to fade.

"NO!" I bellow, trying hard to gain control over myself. _Stop! _I cry—trying to reverse what I've just done. But the hold I thought I had has disappeared altogether; my mutation doesn't let up, and as I try hard to fight to gain a shred of dominance over my power, a bolt of lightning shoots through my hand and makes the image of Logan evaporate into oblivion.

The look of horror in his eyes—however—still hasn't left me yet.

Caring of nothing else, I fall to the floor.

XxXxX

_**PLEASE STOP BEATING YOURSELF up, **_Phoenix begs me again as I throw myself in a defeated heap on my bed. _**It was your first time, Rogue. It's okay. At least you tried—**_

"Please," I whisper, swiping my gloved-hand across my eyes, "I can't deal with this right now, okay? I just… I just want to be left alone."

_**Rogue, **_Phoenix persists, _**don't do this to yourself. **_

"Stop tryin' to tell me what to do!" I scream, my jaw hurting from my clenched teeth. "I said I wanna be left alone and right now I really fuckin' mean it, Phoenix! Just _please_ respect that!"

The silence that follows after my outburst is a welcomed thing; I succumb to my grief then, letting the tears fall as I clutch my pillow tight against my chest. _Why didn't it work?! _I lament. _Why couldn't I control it? Why can't my mutation evah listen to me?!_

As a new "Why?" question pops up, more tears follow. Even after I've asked every question in the book, the tears keep flowing. The disappointment in myself overrides my being, making me feel incompetent and pathetic. Truth be told though, I feel pathetic for crying over it. I feel so _weak. _I'm anything but weak—so why can't I act that way? What could be holding me back from being who I am?

The question goes unanswered, just like all the others. So I just lay there in my pitiful sorrow until there's nothing left to cry—nothing left to feel.

I finally pick myself up from my puddle of sadness and scoot over to the side of the bed to retrieve the half of the joint I left in the ashtray earlier. But just a glance of it tells me it's not enough to sate my emotions. Gritting my teeth, I drop the joint back in its former place and head out to look for Warren—the _last_ motherfucker I wanna see right now.

XxXxX

"HAVE Ya SEEN WARREN?" I ask for the millionth time. "I need to talk to him 'bout somethin' important."

But the girl just shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. The last time I saw him he was in the entertainment room. Maybe he's there?"

"Nah, he's not. Thanks anyway though." _I'm gettin' so fuckin' tired of sayin' the same old shit over and over again. What is she, the tenth—no, _eleventh—_person I asked! Jesus fuckin' Christ, _I roll my eyes. At this rate, I'll never find the asshole.

As much as I want to smoke right now, I know it's just not in the cards for me tonight. I figure it's time to count my losses and move on. Maybe if I go to the kitchen they'll have some Nyquil or something else to knock me out—who knows? There's probably no harm in looking, so I backtrack to the kitchen, deciding it's gonna be my last stop before I say "fuck it" and go to bed.

I'm about to turn the corner for the kitchen hall when a voice calls out to me.

"Heya Rogue!"

I whip around and smile in relief when I see it's Nick. "Hey, bud!"

"Where you running off to?" he asks as he runs up to me. Stopping in front of me, he brushes too-long black bangs out of his eyes and says, "I was just about to come up to your room and ask you if you wanted to play some _Call of Duty._ Warren just got the new one, _Ghosts_, and he asked me to come find you to see if you wanted to play. You game?"

_I wish I was, _I sigh. As much as I want to hang out with Nick, I know I won't be much fun to be around right now. Besides—Warren's there—and as soon as his name passed through Nick's lips I wanted nothing more than to growl in contempt. But, I school my features into an apologetic expression and say, "Aw Nick, I'd love to play but I'm still not feelin' so great, sugah. Maybe next time?"

"What's the matter?" Nick asks, his eyes wide in concern. "You ran off earlier during the movie, too. Are you getting sick or something?"

"I think I might be catchin' a cold," I lie evenly. "It's nothin' major, hunny—no worries. I should be fine in a few days."

"Do you have any bud left?" he whispers.

I shake my head sadly. "No, I don't. I actually was hopin' to run into Warren so I could ask him to gimme more. But no one's seen him and I tried checkin' his room but he wasn't there."

Nick's lips curl into a mischievous smile. He bends his head close to mine and motions for me to do the same. Intrigued, I bring my ear to his mouth. "We left the Mansion. Gambit found this cool house that's like—a few miles away—and we were there the whole time smoking pot and exploring the trails and stuff they have there. It was so cool!"

"Wow," I reply, straightening up. "That does sound cool, Nick. Y'all gotta take me there when I start to feel better."

"Definitely!" he smiles. "But hey, since you need some weed, how about I give you three bags and you just pay me twenty-five for them? I know you prefer weight and all, but you do look pale and I wanna help you out."

Normally I'd balk at the idea of paying for dubs, but since this is one of those _"I really don't give a fuck"_ moments, I decide to take Nick up on his offer. "Thanks sugah," I hand him thirty bills. "Just gimme the change later, okay? Don't worry 'bout it right now."

"You got it, Rogue," he smiles as he slips the bags in my hand. "If you're feeling up to hanging out tomorrow, let me know. I gotta go to classes in the day but they end at 2:30. We can play _Ghosts_ if you want?"

"Sounds great to me," I nod at him, smiling. "Thanks again, Nick. I'll see ya later."

"See ya, Rogue!" he calls after me.

Thankful that I found my fix, I head up to my room feeling a little better about life.

XxXxX

THE NEXT MORNING, I'M awoken by a knock on my door.

Grumbling under my breath, I grab my gloves from my nightstand and slip them over my hands before going over to the door. "Who is it?" I call out.

"It's Professor Cyclops, Rogue."

_Goddamnit, what the hell do ya want?! _I inwardly moan when I look at the time on the clock. _Ya better have a Goddamned good reason for wakin' me up at the asscrack of dawn. _Sighing in exasperation, I unlock the door and pull it open a few inches. "What's up, Professor?"

But whatever he's gotta say is apparently too important for him to say outside of my room. He pushes open my door—nearly knocking me on my ass in the process—and closes it shut behind him in one swift motion. Now, I'm irritated all over again.

"The hell is wrong with ya?" I glare at him. "This is the _second time_ ya've done this! First I catch ya sneakin' in my room, and now ya just barge in? What fuckin' gives?!"

"There's been an attack," he announces—the tone of his voice instantly sobering me from my anger. "The Brotherhood infiltrated a pub up in Canada."

My eyes widen at the horror of his words. _"What?!" _I shriek. "How? When? How many people were hurt?"

"We just got word of it," Professor Cyclops says, sitting down on my bed. "Rumor has it, one of our members was seen there a few days ago. A very… _powerful_ member. He was seen leaving this pub with a bartender who works there and both of them haven't been back since."

"Who was it?" my eyebrows raise in surprise. "How do we know that the Brotherhood wants them?"

"We know because we have friends who live in Toronto. The owner of this pub—Antonio—he was a close correspondent of Professor X. They were good friends that used to go fishing together and they still liked to keep in touch—even after Antonio found out what Professor X was. They've been friends since Charles was a young man, and Antonio is very aware of everything that goes on in our world. He may be one of the few humans we can trust."

Hearing how his tone is coated with nothing but despair, I sink down on the bed beside him. My eyes are unfocused, and there's a slight buzzing in my ears. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep and not wake up from this—but I know it's only going to get worse from here. And in some way, I feel like there's a reason why Professor Cyclops is telling me all this. Swallowing aside my own feelings, I ask him to continue.

"Antonio saw one of his bartenders leave with our mutant and he hasn't seen either of them since. She was supposed to come in for a shift the next day but, she hasn't called or shown up. She just… disappeared. Last night, he decided he was going to her apartment with one of the coworkers the girl is friends with to check up on her when the pub was attacked by Magneto… and Callisto."

_"Callisto?!" _

_ Oh Lawd have Mercy, _I drop my head in my hands. _This is SO not good. _"So what the hell are we gonna do?"

"We have to assemble the team, Rogue. We have to get ourselves ready."

I look at him from out of the corner of my eye. "And _I'm _part of that _we, _aren't I, sugah?"

"Yes," he nods. "Yes, Rogue. You are."

With another defeated sigh, I throw myself backwards on my bed. "Fuck," I groan. "This is _so_ already not my day."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

So, thoughts on Warren's story of when he was at school? What about Nick, Jimmy, and Gambit? (By the way: Nick and Antonio are my characters. Nick is happily my creation so tell me what you think of his mutation!) Also, what about the Danger Room scene with Phoenix/Rogue and Logan's hologram training exercise? I definitely wanna know what y'all think about that!

And finally: what's gonna happen now?! Will Rogue rejoin the X-Men? And… who ELSE did we know that was in Canada at a certain pub where there was a man named Antonio… *Wink, wink.*

PLEASE CONTINUE TO RATE AND REVIEW! THANK YOU! *HEARTS*


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